Hammerhand
by Colonel-Mustard1990
Summary: Honour the Chapter, honour the Emperor, honour the Imperium. Easy oaths to keep when in a world you can understand. Far, far harder, when a place steeped in heresy calls for aid and duty forces your hand to answer.
1. Chapter 1

**Legal stuff: the Mass Effect universe and the Warhammer 40000 universe are property of the corporation Bioware and Games Workshop respectively; neither of them are my creation.**

**All original characters are my property, and may be used if I have provided appropriate permission.**

* * *

Hammerhand

Chapter 1-Evacuation

"Hull integrity at sixty percent."

"Losing life support power."

"Torpedo batteries five through to twenty lost."

The droning of Servitors was barely discernable through the din of klaxons blaring their warnings and the frantic yells of the crew of the Faith's Fury. Brother Captain Malleus cursed as he heard yet another alert of yet more structural damage reports were relayed to him, yet more grim, hopeless new. The Fury was dying, he knew it. It was only a matter of time before the strike cruiser gave out.

In the void, hundreds of kilometres away, the Ork fleet pounded the great bulk of Faith's Fury. Crude lasers cobbled together from scrap pounded the vessel's flanks, torpedoes guided by insane greenskin pilots screaming across the void and into the ship. Cut off from the rest of the Imperial fleet, who were making a spirited attempt to fight through the xenos blockade, Faith's Fury was alone and defenceless.

"Captain!" Hullen's voice crackled into the vox bead surgically planted into the Astartes' ear. "We need to go now. Our brothers have been evacuated, and we're in the Thunderhawk waiting for you."

"Then go!" Malleus ordered without a second thought. "Don't wait for me."

"That is not a good idea, Captain," Cyralius replied, jumping into the vox channel. "If we wish to defeat the greenskins then your tactical expertise will be needed. The Fury is done for; do not be a fool. Staying here and dying will achieve nothing."

Malleus sighed, before nodding.

"Once again you provide the voice of reason, Cyralius," he said. "I'm coming down."

"Be quick, Malleus."

"Captain!" Malleus called over the din, and the command throne at the centre of the bridge swivelled to face the Astartes. The thin, bionically enhanced figure within it called across; "What is it, Malleus?"

"I'm leaving the ship, Kurias," Malleus replied. "Give the orders to evacuate the officers and come with me."

"Aye sir," Kurias replied, before barking a set of orders into a vox mounted into the throne. Kurias was one of the best ship pilots the Sons of Thunder had; he would be needed as much as Malleus in the fight to come. There was a whine as various neural plugs retracted from his body, before he dragged himself free of the throne, pushing through the crowded bridge towards Malleus. The Astartes clamped his helmet into place before grabbing a rebreather unit and slinging it to Kurias.

"No telling where there'll be vacuum," he said. "Now we must hurry."

The hulking space marine hurried through the bridge, Kurias in his wake, and through one of the heavy blast doors that sealed it off from the rest of the ship.  
In the corridors, the chaos was even more intense, panicked armsmen sprinting through the corridors. There was shouting, the screams of the injured and dying and the desperate prayers of those invoking the Emperor to save them in their hour of need. While Malleus could simply shoulder his way through the chaos, his immense bulk lending him the brawn needed, Kurias was struggling to keep up; even with his bionics, the captain spent a long time in his command throne and was struggling to walk, let alone get through the mad scrum of panicked people, servitors, crimson alert lights and blaring claxons.

Realising that Kurias was struggling to keep up, Malleus turned and grabbed the captain, before hoisting him onto his shoulders, ignoring the man's surprised protests as he continued his same, relentless pace.

"Captain, where are you?" Hullen asked. "We can't wait much longer."

"I'm on my way!" Malleus replied. "Hold on!"

Taking a deep breath, the Astartes began to run. The crowds scattered before him in terror of being crushed as he stampeded forwards, smashing aside servitors too slow to get into his way. He thundered down stairs, drawing his thunder hammer one handed to break down a bulkhead barring his way. Within minutes, he had reached the hangar, in which the reassuringly familiar white and gold bulk of his personal thunderhawk, Emperor's Flame, was waiting. A fire was burning on one side of the cavernous room, a team of suppressor servitors trying to control it with great gouts of white foam even as the tongues of flame licked onto the human-machine hybrids and began to consume them.

"In here!" a figure on the ramp of the gunship called, the scrolling on his shoulder saying 'Gaius' in thick gothic lettering. "Hurry!"

Still holding the Fury's captain over his shoulder, Malleus sprinted across the deck and into the gunship. With a whine, the ramp at the front of the vehicle began to grind upwards as Gaius and Malleus quickly clamped themselves into the harnesses at the side of the vehicle's cramped interior while Kurias, now free of Malleus' grasp, hurried to the cockpit. The gunship's engines swivelled and a moment before the ramp shut, Malleus saw the hangar's interior blur as it lifted into the air.

There was a roar as the thunderhawk accelerated out of the hangar, before the sound was cut off as they reached vacuum. Looking around the interior of the vehicle, Malleus did a quick head count, seeing his command squad was there; Gaius, the company champion, Apothecary Okeen, banner bearer Titus, the proud colours of the Sons of Thunder's VI company held in his hands even now. Hullen, the squad's special weaponry expert, had his melta clamped into place over his knees next Epistolary Cyralius and, his four great servo arms folded over his shoulders and making him look like some mechanical spider, Forge-Priest Kullas waited patiently in his deep crimson artificer armour.

He knew their chances of survival were good; the thunderhawk was a tiny target compared to the big game of Faith's Fury and from the tactical map he had called to the fore of his helmet's HUD Imperial forces were already beginning to punch holes in the Ork fleet which had stretched itself thin in its gambit to isolate the Fury.

Unfortunately, what he hadn't bargained on, quite understandably, was just how unpredictable Orkoid engineering could be.

"Incoming!" Kurias' voice crackled over the gunship's PA system. "Brace for impact! Blessed Emperor, it's a damned Shock-Attack Gun!"

"Cyralius!" Malleus said. "Stop that thing now!"

As the curving arc of warp energy streaked towards the gunship, the epistolary drew upon his considerable psychic talents, taking a deep breath and readying his mind. A shimmering bubble of bluish force appeared around the gunship as the screaming beam of æthereal energy smashed into it. Even beneath his helmet, Malleus could tell that there was an expression of intense concentration on the epistolary's face as he tried to counteract the effects of the bizarre weapon.

"Emperor help us!" Cyralius suddenly gasped. "It's put us into the warp!"

Malleus swore. Now they were in danger; in this realm of pure madness daemons would descend on them and tear them apart in minutes, even with Cyralius' considerable psychic talents aiding them. That would probably make them an even more visible target, in fact.

"Cyralius," Malleus said. "I need you to get us out of here."

"I…am…trying," Cyralius grunted. Even with his considerable powers, the struggle to keep the thunderhawk safe and bore a large enough hole into realspace for the gunship was become trying. "Just…a…"

He gasped for a moment and yelled in agony, convulsing in his harness before slumping forward. He wrenched his helmet off and spat a gobbet of thick blood onto the floor, before looking up at his captain, blood trailing over his skin from his nose and eyes.

"We're through, captain," he said weakly.

Malleus released a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Thank the Emperor," he murmured, before remembering his priorities and asking; "Kurias, what's the situation?"

"We appear to be in the same system," Kurias answered, from the cockpit. "I can recognise Lodan Primus from here, but there's no sign of enemy forces, or Imperial ones."

"What?" Malleus asked. "But we were there less than a minute ago. That's impossible."

"Not necessarily, brother captain," Kullas said. Until now the forge priest had remained silent, but clearly he had something to say. "Due to chronologically ambiguous nature of the Warp, it is quite possible that we have been transported to a period of time after, or even before we were committed to engagement within the Lodan system."

"So you're saying we should be safe from greenskins for now, then?" Malleus asked.

"Affirmative," Kullas said. "It is highly unlikely we are in any danger."

"So what's the plan, sir?" Okeen asked.

"Good question, apothecary. Kurias, how far away are we from Lodan Prime?" Malleus said, reaching down to help the epistolary up.

"Just a few hundred kilometres, brother captain," Kurias replied. "We should be able to reach it in an hour or two."

"Excellent," Malleus said. "We'll go there; I'm pretty sure whatever time we're in the good citizens of Lodan Prime would be pleased to see Astartes. From there we can get passage to Polyphemus and return to our chapter, Emperor willing. Captain, set a course to Lodan Prime."

"Consider it done, sir," Kurias replied.

"Excellent," Malleus said. "I think, brothers, that it is safe to say that today, the day is not entirely lost."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2-Lodan Prime

There was a rattling within the thunderhawk's innards as the gunship made atmospheric breach, the troop hold occasionally lurching and rattling as it hit a particularly powerful air current. Within minutes, the thunderhawk was into breathable air, the enhanced hearing of the Astartes within able to hear it whistling past the sturdy vehicle.

After a few minutes of flying, Kurias' voice suddenly chimed over the thunderhawk's tannoy; "Brother-captain, we, uh, appear to have encountered a problem."

"What is it, captain?" Malleus asked.

"I had set the ship's navigation system to bring me on Galden's Reach," Kurias replied. "But it says we've arrived and there's no city, let alone any other form of settlement."

Malleus grunted in frustration.

"Are you sure there aren't problems with the navigation?" he asked.

"I don't think so," Kurias said. "Forge Priest, you carried out a maintenance ritual; you notice anything untoward?"

"That is not the case," Kullas said. "The machine spirit was somewhat shaken by its ordeal, but not the extent where it would have a malfunction as severely as this."

"Then we have a riddle on our hands," Cyralius replied. "Kurias, I believe there is another major city, New Lodan, located in the southern hemisphere. We shall have to try there."

"Let's go, Kurias," Malleus ordered. "Get us there at the double."

He felt the vehicle bank up and turn, and there was a muffled roar as its engines powered up. Considering the size of Lodan Prime, and the thunderhawk's considerable engine power, they should be able to reach just about any part of the planet within the hour.

Within a short amount of time, Kurias announced over the tannoy; "I'm seeing signs of civilisation, sir."

"Details?" Malleus asked.

"Looks like agriculture, sir, fields and the like, but more advanced that just what a feudal world or something would have," Kurias said. "Hold on, I'm seeing buildings. Shall I bring us down?"

"Do that," Malleus said. "Alright, I want weapons loaded and ready for combat; most likely they aren't hostile, but we cannot be sure."

He tapped the release stud on his harness and as soon as the bars over his chest rose he stood, releasing the magnetic clamps holding his thunder hammer in place at his waist and feeling the familiar weight of his weapon in his hands. The warriors around him did the same, cocking bolters and drawing weapons. The ramp began to whir open even as the thunderhawk was still flying, a wind whipping into the hold, barely able to sway the Astartes despite its considerable volume, and by the time it touched down it was almost fully open.

"Go, go!" Malleus yelled, and the marines thundered out, immediately exiting the gunship and setting up overlapping fields of fire under cover of the Thunderhawk's own heavy bolters. Malleus sprinted out after them, thunder hammer ready, into the centre of the semi circle the marines had formed.

"Clear."

"Clear."

"Clear."

The call was given by each of the marines; no hostiles present.

"Kurias, see anything on the scanners?" Malleus asked down his helmet vox.

"Apart from the buildings up ahead? No. Wait, scrap that, there's a group of people coming our way. Can't tell if they're armed or not, though I wouldn't be surprised if they were."

"Weapons down," Malleus said. "Let's not scare them. Last thing we want is things turning ugly."

He saw the party a moment later. He could make out the rough outline of a few firearms, but, strangely enough, their design was unfamiliar; they were made of sweeping curves along with the usual blocks of standard Imperial design. He put the thought on side, however; he had fought with hundreds of Imperial Guard regiments during his service as an Astartes and had seen more variations on lasgun design than he cared to remember.

The people got within a reasonable distance of the Astartes, but then hung back nervously. It was understandable behaviour; even though almost every Imperial citizen had heard tales of the Adeptus Astartes in propaganda and sermons, very few had had the experience of encountering them in the flesh.

Stepping forwards out of his command squad, Malleus bowed his head low and said; "Greetings, citizens. I am Brother-Captain Malleus, of the Sons of Thunder chapter. We are in need of your assistance and were hoping you could provide us with aid in finding a ship to take us off world."

All he received were blank looks in return, devoid of understanding.

What in the Emperor's name is this? Malleus thought. He had helped work out Lodan Prime's defence strategy with the planet's PDF commanders, all of whom were fluent in Gothic, just like the rest of the planet. Yet these people here looked as if they hadn't understood a word he'd said.

One of them stepped forward, and asked something in a tongue that was far removed from any he had heard before. Malleus frowned and held up a finger, hoping that the man would understand what he was asking for, and hurriedly turned to Cyralius.

"Epistolary," he said. "What was the population of this city supposed to be?"

"If I remember correctly, around seventeen or eighteen million," Cyralius replied, furrowing his brow in consternation. "There should be a much larger settlement than I can see."

The Epistolary was right. By Malleus' guess there were only two or three dozen buildings he could see; no more than two hundred people could live here. Something was not ri-

"Abominable intelligence!" Kullas suddenly yelled, raising his finely made bolter and pointing it to a figure in the group. "Abominable intelligence!"

"Kullas, control yourself!" Malleus said as the group jumped in fright, raising their weapons with shaking hands.

"Captain, that…that thing there is an automaton without any organic components," Kullas said, gesturing with his bolter. "An abominable intelligence that has no human parts. It's very existence is a blasphemy against the Omnissah."

Malleus looked at the mechanical figure Kullas was gesturing at. It was true; there were no organic components on it at all, every part of it artificially made. But that was impossible; Iron Men, as the mechanical creatures were called, were exceptionally rare, having been all but wiped out in the war that had plunged humanity into a second dark age. Any remaining ones found by Adeptus Mechanicus adepts were destroyed as soon as possible; a small colony possessing one that was not only fully functioning but also seeming to serve humanity was impossible.

Unless…

No. The idea was absurd. Absurd, yet worryingly plausible.

"Kullas, stand down," Malleus ordered.

"He's got a point, Malleus," Titus said. "That thing there is forbidden by the Emperor Himself. We should destroy it."

"Think for a moment, Titus," Malleus said. "There is no city where Galden's Reach should have been, New Lodan's population has been reduced by millions and they have access to technology from before the Great Crusade. What does that suggest to you?"

"You think that we've…brother-captain, with all due respect, that's impossible," Okeen said.

"Not necessarily," Cyralius replied. "There are records of people reappearing into realspace centuries, even millennia after entering the warp. I have even read a report of a ship full of Imperial Army soldiers appearing in the Alson System when they went there to pacify it during the Horus Heresy."

"Really?" Hullen asked. "What happened to them?"

"They were delighted to discover they were owed ten thousand years of back pay and promptly purchased themselves a small moon," Cyralius said. "My point is, however, that considering the tumultuous and somewhat unguided nature of our own journey as well as the warp's own unpredictable temperament, us falling not only a long way through time, but backwards through it, is not as implausible as you may think."

Hullen shrugged.

"So you think we may have gone into the Dark Age of Technology?" Okeen asked.

"I can think of no other explanation," Cyralius said. "Captain, I would advise caution; it is thought that many of the Dark Age's technological wonders far surpassed even the most holy and potent of the Adeptus Mechanicus' relics and us simply attacking anything for supposed heresy would only lead us to our deaths."

"So we're to sit idly by while I allow an act of techno heresy to exist?" Kullas asked. "An act of techno heresy that exists in direct contravention to the decrees of the Adeptus Mechanicus?"

"Yes, Kullas, yes we are," Malleus said, an edge to his voice. "The Adeptus Mechanicus does not yet exist. The Imperium does not yet exist. We are alone here."

"Very well captain," Kullas said, stepping down. "You speak sense. What do you advise we do?"

"We are still Astartes, are we not?" Malleus replied. "Wherever we are, our purpose is the same; we protect humanity from any threats that may assail it."

"What about the people here?" Titus asked. "We'll get nowhere if we don't know what they're saying to us."

"I can surpass that barrier," Cyralius replied. "Temporarily at least."

"How?" Gaius asked. "You may be a Librarian, but your talent with words will get you nowhere if we've no idea what they're saying."

"Gaius, as fine a warrior you are, I sometimes wonder as to your acumen," Cyralius said, smiling quietly. "I am psyker, am I not?"

A faint, near invisible sheen of blue light appeared around the Epistolary's psychic hood as his mind reached out. One of the members of the party, a grizzled man with thinly shaven greying hair looked shocked for a moment, before his expression calmed to one of edgy unease. After a moment, he said something to the others, before they turned away, motioning for the Astartes to follow.

"Kurias, shut the thunderhawk down and follow us," Malleus said into the vox bead.  
The gunship's engines powered down with whine, and Kurias emerged. The group sent out to meet the Astartes flinched away at Kurias' own outlandish appearance, clearly unused to somebody so heavily augmented.

"There leader would like us to follow them," Cyralius said.

Malleus nodded, before saying; "Lead on."

Having had the brother captain's words mentally relayed, the one who seemed to be in charge nodded and motioned for them to follow, before turning and walking away.

And so, following the original peoples of Lodan Prime, the Astartes took their first steps into unfamiliar territory of the ancient past.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3-First Contact

The New Lodan they entered was a far cry from the bustling metropolis Malleus had seen when he had arrived in orbit around Lodan Prime; instead of the great gothic cathedrals and towering hab blocks he had seen before, neat boxy buildings were spread around, a few fields stretching along gently rolling hills. A crowd had gathered, people pointing and chattering at the outlandish, huge arrivals that had come.

"Captain," Titus' voice came into the vox bead in Malleus' ear. "Over to your left."

Malleus glanced over to where Titus indicated on his helmet's HUD, and grimaced. There, amongst the crowd of humans, was what could only be a xenos. It was a female one, disturbingly similar looking to the people around it, with pale blue skin and what looked to be a clump of short tentacles sprouting from the back of its head. It looked at them with the same nervous curiosity as the rest of the people here, head cocked slightly to one side.

"Should we destroy it?" Gaius asked. Malleus could see the champion's finger closing around the trigger of the bolt pistol attached to his storm shield, flicking the safety catch off.

Malleus thought for a moment. Clearly the thing wasn't an enemy of the people here, or else it would have already been destroyed. But the fact that it was being allowed to live here, in harmony with humans, was bizarre. Xenos were natural enemies of man; every sentient non-human in the galaxy hated the Imperium and humanity, aiming to destroy or enslave it, yet this one wasn't hostile. More than that, it seemed to be living with them peacefully. It was bizarre.

"Cyralius, check if it's exerting no mental control on the people here," Malleus ordered.

"I already did, brother captain," Cyralius replied, bafflement clear on his voice. "There's nothing. The people here seem to…to consent to its existence."

Malleus sighed. As much as it irked him, this thing clearly wasn't an enemy of these people, and he knew that their main duty was, above all other things, to protect humanity. And they wouldn't be doing a poor job as its wards if their charges viewed them as an enemy.

"Hold fire," he ordered. "I know it's an affront to the Emperor, I know it's a blasphemy, but we're in unfamiliar territory. From now on, don't shoot anything unless it shoots first or we're absolutely certain." 

Gaius gave a snort of disgust audible through his helm.

"I find it unappealing as well, believe me," Malleus said. "I want thing dead as much of the rest of you."

Truth be told, he could almost feel his training, something deeply ingrained into his psyche, itching at him to kill the damn thing, and his realised his fingers had involuntarily closed around the haft of his hammer.

As the man led them into one of the buildings, its inside spacious and clean white, Malleus couldn't help but feel there was a certain oddness in the sudden change to the usual attitude he and his brothers adopted to combat; shoot first and ask questions later, or not bother asking at all, was a pretty integral part of the Imperium's attitude to things.

The older man opened up what looked to be a cogitator console, though one far smaller than the usual bulky pieces of equipment that the Imperium used for its computing, a holographic screen winking into existence around it. He gave Cyralius a pointed look and there was a short silence as the Epistolary had a mental conversation, before man tapped what looked to be a recorder.

"He wants you to speak into that," Cyralius said. "Just say a few words, anything really."

"I am Brother-Captain Malleus of the Sons of Thunder Space Marine chapter, loyal servant of the Emperor of Man," Malleus said somewhat uncertainly. There was a pause as the cogitator whirred, before an automated voice announced something in the local people's strange language, presumably a translation of Malleus' words.

"Fascinating," Kullas murmured. "That something so small could have the power to translate from one completely different language to another is incredible."

The man there leant forwards and spoke into the microphone, before an automated voice said in a feminine voice; "Alright mister, I'm Sergeant James Lien of the Alliance. I'm in charge here, and I wasn't expecting a plane full of giants in gold and white to turn up, so who the hell are you and how did you get here?"

"I am brother-captain Malleus of the Sons of Thunder," Malleus replied into the microphone. "My comrades here and I were transported here against our will by a Warp based weapon whilst fighting Orks in space combat in this system."

Once his words were translated, James smirked for a moment, before leaning forward and replying; "Orcs? Where are you from, Middle Earth?"

"No," Malleus answered. "My homeworld, as it was for all my brothers here, was the world of Polyphemus. Orks, on the other hand, are a menace to every human from where I am from. If you knew what those monsters are capable of then you would not make light of them."

"Alright, alright, don't get your arse in a twist," James replied once he heard Malleus' translated answer. "So you're saying that you were fighting a space battle here. Explain why we haven't seen any ships appear in our solar system for the past two weeks then."

"We believe that were transported backwards in time to before the battle began," Malleus said. "What year is this?"

James snorted in disbelief when he heard the captain's answer, before shaking his head and answering; "If you think that's what happened to you, then it's 2185."

"I see," Malleus said slowly. "Just a moment."

He turned to Cyralius, who was looking concerned.

"Epistolary, you're a knowledgeable man," Malleus said. "How does that translate into Imperial Standard."

"Well, the date the good sergeant provided us with works on the Early Crusade system of date keeping," Cyralius said. "On the basis of that system, were last in the year 41999, or more conventionally, 999.M41. Thus, we are in the year 185.M2."

"Blessed Emperor," Malleus murmured. "Then how far back did we go?"

"Thirty nine thousand, eight hundred and fourteen years," Kullas said. "We are at the very dawn of humanity's history."

"No wonder this place is so small," Titus said. "This must be the very beginnings of Lodan Prime's colonisation."

"I hate to interrupt your conversation," the translation of James' words came across, their abrupt tone given a slightly surreal edge by the feminine automated voice that relayed them. "But just what the hell are you?"

"We are Adeptus Astartes," Malleus replied. "We are genetically altered warriors who's sworn duty is to protect mankind."

He neglected to mention the Emperor; that would simply raise too many questions.

"Oh, so you've been playing with genes then," James said. "That would explain why you're so damn big. Though the whole 'protect mankind' thing might cause a little bit of a stir. Pretty likely to offend non humans, isn't it?"

"You mean xenos?" Malleus asked.

"Hey, steady on," James said. "You aren't going to be popular if you use language like that."

"I apologise," Malleus said. "I'm not aware of your customs."

"Yeah, alright," James replied. "Just don't use it around any Krogan or you're going to have a hard time finding your teeth."

"Sergeant, you mentioned that you were part of what you called the 'Alliance,'" Malleus said. "What is that, exactly?"

"The Alliance?" James said. "It's humanity's collection of systems. We provide each other with military and economic support, but we still work with the council to avoid any problems with trade or whatever. Of course, out here on London Prime and in the Terminus Systems in general, the colony's supposed to be independent of it all, but what with all the colonies out here suddenly disappearing they sent me here to try and sort it out."

"Colonies disappearing?" Malleus asked. "What's the cause of this?"

"Don't know," James answered. "Nobody does. Way I see it, if nobody seems to be able to stop it, I don't see what some old sergeant can do. Still, whatever the hell it is I just hope I'll be able to take one or two of the bastards with me."

James shook his head, before once again speaking into the microphone.

"Look, I'll have to inform the alliance you're here," his translated voice said. "In the meantime, make yourselves useful or whatever. Learn some English too to keep your mind reading friend's brain cool, but try not to use any offensive language or else that's going to make my life difficult, and I don't want that. Hopefully the Alliance will have someone pick you up and get you out of my hair before too long."

He leant back in his chair, and smiled at them, before saying; "Oh yeah, welcome to the past."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4-Invaders

"Careful, careful," Titus ordered as he and Gaius lowered the crate down onto the small cargo lifter. The ton of crops was clamped down onto by the cargo lifter's great pincer with a hiss, and the small vehicle whirred away, the driver thanking them in his own language. The banner bearer and the champion returned his thanks with slight uncertainty; despite Cyralius doing a fine job of deciphering and learning their language and passing it onto his brother marines, the two of them had hardly gotten past the basics.

Malleus had wisely guessed that the people of New London, seemingly the original name of the colony before thousands of years would change its pronunciation, would be distrustful of these giants and their strange, semi-organic companion, and so had sent them to work on gaining their trust by making themselves useful. Titus and Gaius' immense strength had been put to work moving heavy goods of some sort or another, while Kurias used the Thunderhawk for hauling supplies from one location to another.

Their current task finished, Titus stretched his arms, the servos in his power armour whining as they mimicked the movement.

"Well, this certainly makes a change from the usual rituals of the fortress monastery," he said to Gaius. "So nice getting back the basics; I almost wish I'd stayed on my father's arcology."

Gaius nodded.

"It is interesting, that's true," he said. "I can't help but feel that we aren't quite, what could I say, training properly, however."

Titus sat down on another storage crate, before getting up in alarm a moment later as it began to groan beneath his weight.

"We both know how to fight well enough, Gaius, and you know that," he said. "And I highly doubt we'll become unfit if we keep carrying things around that weigh as much as that."

"You can never be too well trained, Titus," Gaius replied. "And besides, we're Astartes; hauling crates full of corn or whatever it is these people grow is beneath us."

Titus snorted at the champion's reply, before shaking his head.

"You've a lot to learn, haven't you lad?" he said. "I think Malleus appointing you as company champion has gone to your head somewhat if you're lecturing an old veteran like me. Don't forget what Vulkan once said; 'To protect the common man, one must know him.' We may have fulfilled more glorious duties than this one, but this is just as necessary."

"I suppose you are right, Titus," Gaius said. "But I still find myself somewhat… unhappy about the xenos."

"Ah, I thought that this was what was troubling you," Titus said. "I'll admit that I'm unhappy about it myself. But once again we go back the question of duty."

"Duty?" Gaius said. "It is our duty to destroy xenos, is it not?"

"Our foremost duty, Gaius, is to protect humanity," Titus said. "That is the purpose the Emperor had in mind for us when he created the primarchs in his laboratories under Holy Terra. We destroy xenos because they are a threat to humanity, but we are not in the Imperium any more. Humankind is not the dominant power here, and slaughtering anything non human indiscriminately would lose us sympathy in both alien and human circles. The captain's decision is an unorthodox one, but frankly it's the most sensible one he could make. You are young Gaius, and you are idealistic, but some day you shall have to come to the term with the fact that some we cannot make the choices that we always want to make."

Gaius nodded.

"You're right, Titus," he said. "It was wrong of me to speak out of turn."

Titus smiled and clapped the young company champion on the shoulder.

"Think nothing of it, lad," he said. "It was something that you needed to get off of your chest."

"Then thank you, Titus," Gaius said. "I-blessed Emperor!"

The company champion pointed skywards suddenly, and Titus followed his brother Astartes' gaze.

The sky above New Lodan had changed. It was baleful, painful orange, and lightning crackled around it in great jagged arcs. But suddenly, sliding through the clouds like some colossal dagger, was a ship.

The only thing Titus could identify about the massive, alien craft that was descending slowly groundwards was the fact that it seemed vaguely similar to the great Roks used as space craft by the Orks. But instead of crude metal and weaponry bolted onto a great lump of asteroid, the stone-like stuff that made up the ship seemed to have been meshed near seamlessly with alien technology, almost as if the two contrasting things had been grown together in one smooth, vaguely cylindrical shape.

A roiling black cloud seemed to swirl around the craft, splitting and coalescing around it with a mind of its own. Titus grabbed his helmet from where he had placed it on a storage crate, and with a hiss and clamped it over his shaven head, letting it slide into place with a hiss. The lenses within its eyepieces whirred as Titus zoomed in on the craft, and he realised the cloud wasn't innocent water vapour, but thousands upon thousands of tiny bodies whirring around it, insects or birds of some sort.

"Captain," he said into the vox, beginning to sprint forwards to the colony, motioning for Gaius to follow. "Are you seeing this?"

"I am," Malleus' voice replied.

"Sir, you need to get everybody inside," Titus said as he thundered onwards, Gaius behind him. The two of them had their weapons stored within a building in the colony, incorrectly thinking they would not need them. Right now they needed to get them fast. "The enemy seem to have some sort of swarm of insects or something. I've no idea what it does, but if we can get people into the buildings they should be safe."

"We already are," Malleus said. "Get back here quickly; we're their only defence at the moment."

"We're nearly back," Titus said. "We'll link up with you, but we need to get our weapons."

"Then hurry," Malleus said. The brother captain cut the connection.

The two marines sped forwards to the edge of the settlement, where a group of panic stricken citizens were hurrying into their houses, slamming the doors and windows shut and sealing them tight.

As the buildings locked down, Titus glanced skywards. Out of the maelstrom of the swarm, figures were emerging. His enhanced hearing could hear the buzzing of wings, as the things dropped down onto the ground in front of the marines.

They were horrendous things, grey-carapaced humanoid abominations. Glowing yellow eyes mounted in flattened, inverted conical heads regarded the two Astartes with an alien hatred, and the things buzzed and clicked, raising rifles seeming to have been grown out of the same stuff the xenos were made of.

Without a second's hesitation, Gaius and Titus were among them. The sixth company's champion smashed his fist into the face of one of the abhorrences in an explosion of yellow ichor, the natural armour it had being no match for the sheer power of the fully armoured Astartes' assault. Beside him, Titus slammed his helmet into the forehead of his own opponent. Stunned, it staggered backwards, before the banner bearer grabbed its head in one hand, its shoulder in the other, and twisted, snapping its neck in a single swift motion.

The last one showed no fear, and simply raised its rifle, snapping off a burst of fire which pinged ineffectively against Titus' power armour. That was as far as it got before Gaius charged forwards and grabbed it in a tackle, crushing it beneath his immense weight and bulk.

"Let's go," was all Gaius said before he was away, Titus in his tracks as more of the xenos buzzed down to the surface.

The swarm followed them, and suddenly the Astartes found their passage impeded by millions of tiny bodies that battered into them with vicious intent. Even with the might of their power armour behind them, the Astartes suddenly found themselves struggling to move through the swarm; however many they crushed and battered beneath their fists, more simply came. It was like walking underwater, and the two Astartes began to slow, the millions of insects threatening to wear them down through the sheer weight of their bodies.

With a roar, Gaius suddenly pushed forward, his white and gold armour coloured a sickly yellow by the blood of the insects he crushed with his thunderous progress. Titus took heart from the champion's progress, breaking into a sprint. Suddenly they were through the cloud of insects, and into the true battle.

A xenos tumbled past Gaius, its chest a bloody ruin, and the two saw Malleus surrounded by a mob of the xenos, his hammer crackling as he swung it left and right, shattering bodies with every sweep. With a deafening crack, the brother captain raised his bolt pistol and fired a point blank shot into the face of another alien, the round punching through its skull and detonating within, sending a spray of ichor and grey matter flying.

There was a roar beside Titus and Gaius, and the two turned to see Kullas roasting a trio of the xenos with the flamer mounted in his servo harness. The plasma cutter on the other mechanical arm screamed into life and spat a bolt of blazing azure energy into another xenos, reducing its torso to nothing more than a molten slag.

"Brothers!" the forge priest yelled as he saw the two marines. "Here!"

He kicked a crate across to the two marines, and Gaius wrenched it open. He grabbed his power sword and slammed the back of his hand into the storm shield's handle, the aegis mag-clamping itself into place. He reached in and pulled out a bolter, throwing the weapon to Titus. The marine caught it deftly, fixing the weapons into place to grab the ammunition Gaius sent him next.

Gaius smiled as he took his own bolt pistol from within the crate and slammed a clip of ammunition in, before levelling it and sniping a xenos a few feet with a shot to the head, send it toppling back.

It was good to be in the fight.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5-Harbinger

It was brutal. Astartes and xenos ground against each other in a single mass, trying to push each other backwards. On one side, the surgically-enhanced superhumans fought with bolter and power weapon, punching through the grey carapace of the abominations, while on the other the xenos blazed away with their weapons, firepower glancing off the Astartes' power armour. Yet as ineffective as their attacks were, the xenos would not stop, fear clearly a concept they were not familiar with.

Malleus slammed his hammer into another of the xenos, smashing it from its feet in a spray of sickly yellow and sending the shattered remnants of its body tumbling away as even as he brought his weapon round for a second swipe at one of its fellow soldiers. His bolt pistol barked and brought another one down, its throat torn out by the high velocity round, before he spun, raising his arm to block a blow from the stock of a xenos' rifle.

Despite the stubborn, intractable defence of the xenos, Malleus and the Astartes were gaining ground, steadily pushing forward in a blaze of firepower and righteous fury. Roaring curses, battle hymns and oaths, the Astartes battered their way through the swirling melee, their aliens' implacable manner no match for the superhumans.

"Cyralius," Malleus called into the vox as he broke away from the combat for a moment. "Where are you? I want a situation update now."

"We're in the main square," the Librarian replied, voice slightly distorted by the crackle and hissing of the vox caster. "That's me, Hullen and Okeen. Kurias is inside, out of the swarm's way."

"We'll be on our way," Malleus called. "Keep Kurias alive; we need the thunderhawk if we want to drive off that ship."

"We'll do our best, brother-captain," Cyralius said. "But be warned; there's some sort of leader creature about. It seems to possess these xenos somehow, control them externally. I've kept it at bay with some warpcraft, but be warned that its combat abilities are formidable. Even if you kill it, it'll find another xenos to take control of."

"Noted," Malleus replied, slamming off another shot with his bolt pistol. "Stand firm, Cyralius, we're on our way."

He cut the connection, just in time to see another xenos charge at him, rifle raised to strike. He swiped at it with his thunder hammer, catching it a glancing blow and sending it tumbling away, its entire left side shattered beyond any hope of being healed.

"With me, brothers!" he roared over the melee. "We are the lightning of His hate! We are the thunder of His wrath!"

He charged, the marines around him storming forward, repeating the time honoured war-cry of the Sons of Thunder. The xenos began to crumble, unable to hold against the renewed fury of the Astartes as they smashed into them, sweeping them aside with terrifying power.

Suddenly, something in the air changed. An underlying sense of wrongness seemed to fill the area, a feeling that something wasn't right. A deep, hoarse rasp sounded around them, some ancient alien tongue that touched a primal part of Malleus' being and made it scream to turn and flee, though such thoughts found little purchase on the adamantium strong fastness of Malleus' psycho-conditioned willpower.

One the xenos was…changing. It had risen in the air, contorting and twisting in agony as parts of its shell peeled away. It eyes began to glow deep blue, and its began to shine from the inside out, hot crimson light that seemed to sear and blacken its natural armour, giving it the appearance of being made of some molten rock. Where its fingers had once been were now claws, deep onyx coloured things that clattered over each other with every movement, their edges gleaming with deadly sharpness.

It dropped to the ground, before standing and staring at them. Malleus looked it right in the eyes back, refusing to be cowed by whatever blasphemous monster that now controlled the xenos.

**What are you?** the same deep, rasping voice asked again. **You are not Turian, Asari, Quarian, Krogan or Vorcha. You are not Hanar, or Drell or Volus. You look like humans, but you are too large, too strong for that. I have never seen your ilk before.**

"We, xenos, are Astartes," Malleus replied. "We are the divine instruments of the Emperor's wrath, His angels of death. And what might you be?"

There was laughter this time, deep and guttural. Malleus' eyes narrowed and he hefted his thunder hammer threateningly. No xenos should mock the Adeptus Astartes and be left unpunished.

**So, 'Astartes,' it is a game of posturing and boasting that you wish to play? **the xenos replied. **Then call me Harbinger. I am as old as the stars themselves, and have laid waste to a thousand races. Against me they sent warriors and weapons far mightier than you and I destroyed them all. Not once have I been defeated, not once have I been bested. All have fallen before me, none have survived. Against me, all is dust.**

"You say you have never been bested?" Malleus asked. "That let me ask, how come you have not yet beaten Cyralius. He told me that you assailed him many times and that he defeated you on every occasion."

**The one you call Cyralius is an anomaly,** Harbinger answered. **He is no normal biotic.**

"Oh, I see Harbinger, I see," Malleus said. There was a grin on his face, a dangerous, predatory one that certainly didn't mean he was happy. "He didn't play by the rules, so he doesn't count. Do you know what I think? I think you're lying. You have been beaten before. You can be beaten again, and do you know what? I think I might just add another defeat to your tally."

Malleus stepped forward, swinging his hammer with an almost casual air about him. Most observers would have mistaken the action for arrogance, but the three Astartes behind him knew what he was doing; provoking the xenos leader, making it angry enough to make a mistake. It was a mean, dirty tactic, but it worked.

"I'm right here, Harbinger," Malleus said, swing his hammer back into both of his hands. "Let's see if you're telling the truth about always winning. Let's see if you can really face the Astartes. Or perhaps, Harbinger, perhaps you're afraid."

Harbinger stepped forward, raising its claws in challenge.

**I fear nothing, Astartes, **it hissed.

"Then let's do this the old fashioned way," Malleus replied. "A battle of champions. Just you and I, Harbinger."

**And what do you expect?** Harbinger asked. **That I will do the honourable thing and leave this world once beaten? No. The inhabitants of this world are mine. If you kill me, then I will return. This little fight will mean nothing.**

"Oh, I know that," Malleus replied. "I just don't particularly care. If I win, I'm still going to kill every one of your warriors, and then I'm going to hunt you down to your little lair and I'm going to murder you with my bare hands. And if I don't, then I'm still taking this vessel of yours with me."

He flicked the activation stud of his thunder hammer back on, and lightning crackled around the ornate head of the weapon, the contemptuous head of the Aquila lighting up with harsh white.

"Ave imperator dominus immortale," he murmured in high gothic. "Let me smite the abomination that stands before me."

He raised his hammer and charged.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6-Guardians

Thunder hammer clashed with claws with a blast of power that sent both combatants staggering back a moment. Malleus was first to recover, and swung his hammer at Harbinger's skull, but the xenos grabbed the haft of the weapon in order to block its progress, claws closing around its length in a vice-like grip.

For a moment, each tried to wrest the weapon out of the other's hand, a trial of strength, before Malleus twisted, the sudden movement throwing Harbinger off balance and sending it toppling away. The xenos rolled with the fall, and stopped a few metres from him, rising up into a fighting crouch immediately.

Malleus made another swing at the xenos, sending it rolling away, but he reversed the blow, slamming the butt of the weapon into its side. There was roar of pain and hatred, and Harbinger leapt upon Malleus. Thrown off balance, Malleus toppled back, losing his grip on his weapon and using only his hands to stop the deadly length of Harbinger's claws, grabbing the wrists of the monster as it slashed down.

For a moment, they grappled, Malleus' superhuman physique struggling against the abominable might of the xenos leader before he slammed an armoured knee into its stomach. He smiled grimly as he heard something crack, and Harbinger toppled away, trying to scramble out of the brother-captain's reach.

Malleus pulled himself to his feet and grabbed his hammer, advancing on Harbinger, who had pulled itself to its feet. Even weakened, it raised its claws defiantly, knowing that its defeat was a minor matter.

The hammer slammed down and smashed it apart, the leader-xenos crumbling away like ash. For a moment, Malleus heard Harbinger's voice on the breeze, a deep hiss that promised; **We are not done, Astartes.**

The xenos that remained raised their weapons, yet the Astartes had already readied theirs, a hail of bolter shells and plasma cutting them down before the xenos could effectively respond.

Malleus scanned the skies above them; apart from the looming bulk of the xenos' starship and the shifting mass of the insect swarm, the airspace immediately above New London was clear. No doubt a second wave would be vomited free soon enough, but the Sons of the Thunder had time.

"On me," Malleus said. "We need to get to Kurias."

The marines followed the course he set without question, hurrying down the roads of the colony before they reached the central area of the colony.

It was a killing ground, dozens of xenos corpses scattered across its expanse. Some had been rent asunder by the might of Cyralius' powers, while piles of stinking slag were testament to Hullen's melta doing its handiwork. Here and there were corpses with great rents torn into their bodies, wounds that Malleus guessed were down to Okeen's narthecium. The shattered wreckage of a machine that bore a vague resemblance to the crabs of ancient terra was smoking gently, was embedded into the wall of one of the buildings, smoking gently.

"Cyralius," Malleus called. "Where are you?"

"Here, brother-captain," the Epistolary replied, stepping out from one of the main buildings which, judging by the fact that it was peppered with bullet holes, had served as cover for him. "We've been digging in, in preparation for the next wave."

The psyker glanced skywards, and frowned.

"And here it comes," he said. "Captain, what's your plan?"

"We need Kurias to get in the thunderhawk," Malleus replied. "That's the only thing with enough firepower to stand a chance of shooting that ship down. Cyralius, we need some kind of shield around him, to keep him safe."

"A psychic shield?" Cyralius asked. "I can only keep the enemy's bullets off him for so long, Malleus, you know that."

"Not necessarily their bullets, just the swarm," Malleus said. He had no idea what the voracious swarm of insects did, but he didn't want to risk the life of his pilot to find out.

"That?" Cyralius asked. "That's manageable, don't worry."

"Good," Malleus said. He activated the vox, flicking to the channel that he hoped Kurias was on. "Kurias," he called into the device. "Do you hear me, Kurias?"

"Loud and clear," Kurias replied. "What do you need?"

"You out here, now," Malleus said. Behind him, he heard Kullas yell 'contact!' and open up with his plasma cutter, and glanced around to see the xenos descending all around, their wings fluttering and buzzing, their repulsive weapons raised and already beginning to fire.

He cut the connection and raised his bolt pistol, snapping off a brace of shots that tore one of the xenos from its feet and sending it toppling down into the square below. Already the Astartes were responding, ducking to cover and returning fire, bolters and bolt pistols blazing.

There was a hiss as the doors to one of the buildings opened, and Kurias sprinted out, lurching and loping awkwardly thanks to his bionics. Malleus glanced upwards, and saw that already the insects that had gathered around the huge ship were pouring downwards alongside their abominable masters, spearing their way towards the captain.

Blasphemies that they were, Malleus had to hand it to them; those things had an efficient comms. network.

A blue field of energy appeared around the former starship captain, and for a moment he stood confused before he noticed Cyralius standing beside him, hands raised to conjure a protective ward around him.

"With me, captain," Cyralius said. "We must get to the thunderhawk; we haven't much time."

The swarm descended, and thus began the real test of the epistolary's power.

Making his way through it was a slow process, the insect throwing themselves against his shield with blind fury, even as their fellows crushed them between their mass and the solid barrier of the empyreal shield. For the first few minutes, maintaining it was not much of an effort, but their sheer numbers began to drain him, the energy required to keep it erect forming a dull ache at the back of his skull.

Fortunately, his fellow marines were what was saving him and the captain. The combat map provided by the HUD built into his psychic hood marked the points where his fellow Sons were, and the green dots that marked their location had formed a wedge around them, pushing forwards with the implacable might that was the hallmark of Vulkan's sons.

Through the swarm they went, always advancing, never once stopping. The pain at the back of Cyralius' skull began to increase as he channelled yet more effort into keeping the shield erect, a throbbing agony that pounded against his skull like a hammer on an anvil. His forehead was creasing with the effort, arcs of æthereal energy jumping around the confines of his psychic hood, earthing itself in any of the insects that strayed too close.

Suddenly, he saw the doorway to the barn where the thunderhawk was kept appear out of the mass of the swarm. Still frowning in concentration, he kept going, his attempts to put one foot in front of another becoming a herculean effort even for his enhanced body. Kurias reached it, threw the door open and slammed it shut behind him before any of the insects could follow. As if sensing their quarry had eluded them, the swarm began to peel away, the insects winging their way back into the skies towards their mothership.

Cyralius sighed as he leant against the wall of the barn, exhausted by the use of his powers. With the swarm no longer obscuring his view, he could see that his fellow Astartes were still in combat with the xenos, tearing through them in close combat or sweeping them from their feet in a hail of bolter shells.

Then the barn door behind him exploded as the thunderhawk emerged.

The gunship was already powering upwards and outwards at full throttle as it tore through the building's frail wall, its armoured nose hardly scratched by the impact. It swooped upwards, coming dangerously close to clipping a building as it rose, before it was clear and rising skywards. Several of the insectoid xenos buzzed upwards in pursuit, but their efforts were futile, their wings no match for the power of the thunderhawk's engines.

Sensing a threat, the ship dispatched a trio of bizarre aircraft, silver spheres that sped towards the gunship with murderous intent. The gunship banked and curved away from them, the heavy bolters mounted on its wings and flanks spitting streams of burning tracer runds after them. One of the escort craft was hit, the large-bore mass reactive rounds punching past its armour and detonating within. Something vital was damaged, and it spiralled downwards, smoke trailing from the hole in its hull.

Its fellows were unperturbed, curving after Kurias' craft. A lance of burning bright orange light speared from the strange lenses mounted in the centre of the xenos craft, tracking Kurias, yet the captain was good at what he did; the gunship turned and rolled out of their way, always moving, never staying on a straight course long enough for the threads of murderous light to close on it.

Yet for all his skill, the xenos craft had the advantage of speed, inexorably closing with the thunderhawk, their weapons still blazing, knowing that the closer they got the greater their chance of scoring a hit. Judging by the great scars that the laser weapons were tearing in the hillsides beyond New London, they would make short work of the Thunderhawk, however much armour the sturdy craft was protected by.

But Kurias had noted that as well. For a moment, the craft banked upwards, and any observer would have thought it was going to stall. Then the VTOL engines of the craft flipped, powering it downwards towards the ground.

Not expecting the manoeuvre, the spherical craft rapidly halted, but not before the thunderhawk dropped below them, nose facing the skies. The engines turned again, powering it upwards, and the heavy bolters blazed, yet more firepower spearing towards the alien craft. One was hit, and the other managed to pull off a few evasive manoeuvres before a hellfire missile speared from the now stationary thunderhawk and smashed it from the sky.

The gunship turned in midair, powered its engines into full and banked towards the xenos' main ship, and then, with a flare of blinding crimson light, the turbo laser mounted on its back fired.

Turbo lasers are rare weapons, one of the most powerful to be manufactured by the Imperium of man. Essentially a scaled up version of a lascannon, the turbo laser could overpower shields and tear through vehicle armour with contemptuous ease. One of the main reasons they were so commonly employed on Imperial titans was, of course, the fact that they were so dangerously effective against enemy god-machines.

The strange armour of the ship had no chance; the weapon tore through its protection, spearing into its innards and ripping out the other side, flames blossoming around the entry and exit wounds, the shields normally protecting it down thanks to the fact it had to land in-atmosphere. The weapon's fire cut off automatically, the machine spirit stopping it before it catastrophically overheated, and Kurias pulled away from the ship, releasing a pair of hellstrike missiles into the breach created by the laser as a passing shot.

The malign intellect of Harbinger sensed it had been bested, and the immense engines mounted on the ship flared into life, slowly yet inexorably pushing the starship skywards. Sensing their escape route was being cut off, the xenos broke away from combat with the Astartes and they and the swarm winged their way towards their mothership, back to the bays that housed them. Kurias showed no mercy, the thunderhawk's heavy bolters roaring and scything them from the skies as it arced towards them, shattered bodies toppling and thudding onto the colony below.

The thunderhawk swooped around again, facing the xenos ship and lining up for another shot. As it slid skywards, its colossal engines granting it the momentum needed, Kurias fired again, the shot scoring a molten line along its rocky flank.

Then, with a final flare of its engines, the ship fled, roaring into the void. Assured that the threat was gone, Kurias brought the thunderhawk back down towards the colony, swooping overhead with a scream of engines as the awed citizens of New London emerged from their homes. They stared with a mixture of shock and amazement at the xenos corpses that were scattered across the colony, looking at the gathered Astartes who, battered and bloodied thought they were, were all very much alive.

"Citizens of New London," Cyralius said. "Fear not. These creatures shall not threaten you again."

James stepped forward from the small crowd that was already gathering. He looked impressed, but there a vaguely worried edge to his expression. Such a look was not unfamiliar to the Astartes; even in the Imperium, where the power of the Astartes was already the stuff of legend, their sheer destructive might was shocking for most normal soldiers.

"Alright," he said, as behind him the Thunderhawk touched down with a gentle whine. "I should probably let the Alliance know about this."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7-Cerberus

"Alliance communications, alliance communications," James called into the microphone. "Alliance communications come in. Do you hear me?"

The large screen before him was still buzzing with static as he fiddled with the controls before him. Behind him stood Cyralius, waiting patiently for the colony's long-range radio to get the signal.

"Alliance communications," he tried one more time. "Alliance co-ah, here we go."

The static had cut out, replaced with a flat panel of deep blue, a symbol of a blue and green planet that seemed vaguely familiar to Cyralius placed within its centre. An automated voice flatly stated; "This is Alliance long range communications. Please state your planet or ship serial."

James glanced around on the large, matt-black control panel of the communicator and grabbed a post-it note with a few numbers and letters scribbled down on it. Leaning back in his chair, he read out; "The serial is; nine, Charlie, seven, three, four, four, Oscar, hotel, one, zero."

"Processing," the voice announced. "Code recognised. Is this a communication from the independent colony New London?"

"Yes," James said, keeping his answer as simple as possible for the sake of the machine.

"Hello, colonist," the voice said. "Please state who you wish to speak to."

"I wish to speak to the alliance military wing," James said.

"Please state your clearance code," the voice replied.

For a moment, James look flustered, before he span his chair and hurried to his desk, flicking through the assorted pieces of paper lying there before triumphantly grabbing a sheet of scrap paper from the bottom of a pile. Cyralius watched the whole process with a slight smile; the sergeant clearly wasn't one of nature's bureaucrats.

"Please state your clearance code," the voice stated again. "Failure to do so will result in the termination of this call."

"No you don't!" James cried as he practically jumped back into his chair at the panel.

"I am sorry," the voice said. "The code you stated was not recognised. Do you wish to try again."

"Yes, I do," James said. "Try again."

"Please state the code," the voice said, forgetting James' former error. James reeled off the list of numbers and letters quickly, before getting a reply of; "Code recognised. Welcome, Sergeant James Lien."

The screen changed, the blue replaced by a man dressed in the uniform of a communications officer.

"Alliance military," he said. "What is it I can do for you?"

"Morning lance-corporal," James said, reading the lone chevron displayed on the man's lapel. "I'm trying to get a pickup from here, a high priority one."

"A pickup?" the lance-corporal said. "Sorry, but I'm afraid that's not going to be done quickly. You're at New London, yes? You'll just have to wait for the next supply ship to come, or charter a private flight, I'm afraid."

"I see," James said. He tapped a few buttons on what looked to be a wristwatch he was wearing, and an orange hologram appeared around his hand and wrist, a circle and some sort of holographic band. When Cyralius had quizzed him about the device a few days earlier, he said they were called omni-tools and, in his words, were 'able to do just about everything.' Cyralius hoped to get one of his own at some point.

James turned the circle that had appeared around his hand and pressed a few ethereal buttons on the device, before saying; "You see this footage I'm streaming to you? That's of him and his friends."

He pointed to Cyralius, who gave the man on the other side of the line a pleasant smile.

"We were attacked a few days ago by a bunch of aliens," James said. "He and the other six, they fought them off, and they tallied one hundred and eighty seven kills between them. They then went and damaged their ship so badly it had to lift off, and all without losing a single life. I've done a bit of digging in the archives as well, and the aliens are some things called 'Collectors.' I think we found the culprits for those disappearing colonies as well. Try skipping to ten minutes thirty five seconds on there, and take a look through camera six."

There was a short silence as the corporal watched the footage, looking somewhat awed by what he was seeing.

"That was…quite something," he said eventually.

"I know," James said. "Especially when the one with the sword and shield hit that Collector so hard it flew up and broke the camera."

"The thing is," the corporal said. "We already know it was the Collectors."

"What?" James exclaimed. "You _knew_ it was those things and you did nothing? People have been disappearing, and all command have been doing is sitting on their arses? Bloody typical."

He leant back in his chair and shook his head.

"We only got the information a few days ago," the comm. man said. "We've not managed to get the word out everywhere yet."

"Alright," James said. "Who found that out then?"

"Commander Shephard," came the reply. "He dealt with a Collector attack on a colony called Horizon a few days ago, managed to drive them off."

"Commander Shephard?" James asked. "He's dead though. It was all over the media a couple of years ago. You know, official state funeral and everything, military honours, flowers, a memorial, bereaved lover, the lot."

"I know, I know," the lance-corporal replied. "That's just what happened. Apparently it turned out he was only missing and spent time underground, or something. The details are pretty sketchy, but I don't think that matters now."

"Why not?" James asked.

"Well, there were more Collectors than Shephard anticipated," the lance-corporal said. "And, now, well, we're really in trouble."

"What happened?" James said. A small part of him worried about the answer. He'd never met Shephard, but he knew what the man had done during the Arcturius Conspiracy. That had been some impressive stuff, even he was willing to admit that, and Shephard had saved all their hides then.

"The fact of the matter is that, well, Shephard's dead."

#

The small station was a dark, anonymous place, in a lonely orbit around a minor star. The system was occupied only by a few dead planets, simply large balls of rock too far away from anywhere and lacking in any important minerals to be worth mining. The nearest mass effect relay was several hundred lightyears away, and the system was so out of the way, so quiet and so dead end that nobody would ever have reason to visit it.

Yet for those who wished to do business with a certain individual, a man whose name was known only a trusted few, but whose pseudonym was synonymous with organised crime, it was the only place to meet him in person. Few had met him, few knew his face. And that was just how the Illusive Man liked it.

Yet today, he was not happy. Not happy at all.

"This is more than just a problem, Miranda," he said to the young woman in a white bodysuit who was standing to one side. "This is nothing short of a disaster."

He shook his head, and took a puff on his cigar to soothe his nerves. They were good cigars, transported all the way from Havana at great expense. But he was a rich man, and they were a luxury he could easily afford.

"I spend billions on the Lazarus project," he said. "And at the first danger he encounters Shephard gets himself killed."

Miranda Lawson stayed silent. She had worked for the Illusive Man long enough to know when to speak and when to simply let him voice his thoughts.

"I've been a fool," he said. "I put all my eggs into one basket, I gambled too much on Shephard. He was good, extremely good, good enough to save the Galaxy, but he was just a man. I forgot that he could be killed just as easily as any other person."

He took another puff of the cigar, savouring the flavour of the smoke. Horizon, that was where it had all gone wrong, they had got Shephard there, ready to drive the Collectors away, only to have him killed by Harbinger. Sure, the ship had been driven off, the colony saved, but the Galaxy's famous saviour, the man who might well have defeated the Reapers, was dead. Shephard had been important; without him, the fight against the Reapers would be far, far harder.

"We have some of the team," he said. "All is not lost, I suppose. Miranda, you'll be in charge of the team now Shephard's gone. We'll continue as before, find a way to get past the Omega-four relay and we'll deal with the Collectors and the Reapers the best we can."

There was a grim set to his face.

"We'll win this somehow," he said. "God knows how, but we will."

"Sir," Miranda said, drawing a data pad from within one of the pockets of her uniform. "We haven't lost everything. I received this just yesterday. One of our agents in the Alliance was contacted a soldier out in a colony, New London. There was another Collector attack there, but there were a group of soldiers out there."

"And?" the Illusive Man asked. "What happened to them? Did they manage to somehow avoid the Seeker swarms without the help of Doctor Solus' formula?"

"These weren't ordinary soldiers," Miranda replied, the distinctive twang of her Australian accent apparent on her voice. "I've footage of them on here; I've never seen anything like it."

She handed the data pad to the Illusive Man, who pressed the play button in the corner of the device's screen. For a few minutes, he was silent, watching the CCTV footage. Slowly, he began to smile, a predatory smile, the smile of a businessman who has just seen an opportunity to really make his fortune.

"Well this is a surprise," he said. "And one that can certainly be turned to our advantage."

He took another mouthful of rich smoke from his cigar, gently tapping the head of ash that had gathered at its end into a small pit in the arm of his chair. A lid closed on it and there was a whine as the ash was sucked away.

"Miranda, take the Normandy and get it to New London," he said. "I think we should make the most of this opportunity while we still can."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8-Normandy

The ship hailed New London the next day, requesting permission to send a landing party down to the surface. The request was accepted by James, who was slightly suspicious about the speed the Alliance had responded to his request, but nonetheless pleased that they had actually managed to get something done quickly.

The ship itself was too large to land, according to the pilot, and so a shuttle was sent down, a small craft that dropped downwards on a slow, cautious course, levelling out as it descended before coming to a halt a foot or so above the ground. The small VTOL engines cut out as the craft came to rest, and the door hissed open. The woman who stepped out greeted the small crowd who had gathered to greet her with a smile, before noticing James and stepping forward. Noting the holographic rank slide marking her as a captain, James stepped forwards and saluted, one hand still resting gently on the rifle he carried. The woman returned the salute, before saying; "I'm Captain Lawson. I'm here to pick up the, ah, people you contacted us about."

"They're just here, ma'am," James said, indicating the marines, who had assembled in a small group to one side along with Kurias. They clamped their fists together and bowed their heads slightly, the traditional salute of the Sons of Thunder. "And their pilot."

Captain Lawson gave them a slightly curious look, one that suggested she was assessing the Astartes, sizing them up. The marines returned her gaze with a solemn calm, making it less obvious that they were trying to assess the young woman's own mettle.

"Which one of you is in charge?" she asked.

"That would be brother-captain Malleus," Cyralius said. "Unfortunately, he's still learning English. I'm afraid I'm the only fluent English speaker of our number at the moment."

He neglected to say that he had skimmed such information from the minds of New London's colonists, deciding it would raise too many questions.

"However, they are all learning," he continued. "Perhaps I could talk to you and then explain the situation?"

"That should be fine," she said. "Is your ship able to fly in a vacuum?"

Cyralius nodded.

"Then if you could ask them to follow my shuttle then we can be on our way," Lawson said.

"Alright then," Cyralius replied. "I just need to make a few farewells."

"Fine," Lawson said. "Be quick about it."

The door of the shuttle hissed open, and Captain Lawson stepped on to the threshold, waiting half in and half out of the vehicle.

"Blimey, a genuine Aussie," James muttered as Cyralius stepped over to him. "Uppity little cow too."

Cyralius just shrugged.

"You get officers like that," he said. "Still, you can grumble later, can't you?"

"Yeah, I guess," James said. "I suppose this is goodbye, then."

"That it is, I'm afraid," Cyralius said. He held out a hand, and James shook it, his own hand dwarfed by Cyralius' own immense gauntlet.

"Alright, it was good to see you," James said. "And have you save our arses. If you're ever around here, let me know."

"It'll be the first thing I do," Cyralius said. "Best of luck, my friend."

"Yeah, you too," James replied. "You'll probably need it more than me, if you're going to be saving the galaxy and everything. See you around."

"Farewell, James," Cyralius replied, turning away from the man and towards the shuttle. As he did so, he felt a twinge of sadness in his gut; despite his gruff and rather abrupt manner, he'd grown rather fond of the sergeant.

He nodded him a final farewell as he stepped into the shuttle, and sat down on the small bench at one end of the compact vehicle as it lifted off.

"Alright, Captain Lawson, I'm here," he said. "What do you want to tell me then?"

"First of all, I'm afraid the 'captain' is just pretence," Lawson said, plucking the small hologram generator from where it was pinned in place and deactivating it. "I'm no more a member of the Alliance than you are."

Cyralius raised an eyebrow at this statement, leaning back in his seat. Not quite sure how to react, he motioned for Lawson to keep talking.

"My name is Miranda Lawson, and I work for an organisation called Cerberus," she continued. "We're an underground group, who work in favour of humanity-"

"And do so using somewhat dubious means and have often been accused of being an Alliance organisation who are supposed to work below board," Cyralius said. "And you were recently dubbed by the journalist Alma Lokeer as 'the Klu Klux Klan of the twenty-second century.' I've been looking at a lot of politics since I arrived here."

"You're a subscriber to Lokeer's viewpoint?" Miranda asked slightly warily.

"No, not really," Cyralius said. "That quote just happened to stand out in some digi-articles I read on you. Though I must say the methods you employ are certainly a great deal less public and, as far as I can tell, less violent."

Miranda shrugged.

"She doesn't know what she's talking about," she said. "We're not about getting at non-humans, we're about fighting humanity's corner."

"I never said you were," Cyralius said diplomatically.

"Alright," Miranda said. "But more recently, we've had to work for more than just Humanity. The fact is, every sentient being in the galaxy is under threat. There are a race of machines living in the void outside our galaxy, and they seek to destroy all civilisation. We don't know why, but Cerberus are trying to stop them and we need your help, and nobody else is doing a damn thing."

"These are the Reapers you're referring to, aren't they?" Cyralius asked. "As I said, I've been doing a lot of research since I arrived. I'll admit that most of the arguments presented in favour of the Reapers existing were given by people who I'd say had a tenuous grip on reality at best, but I've seen some pretty convincing testimonies, especially from some of those involved in the Battle of the Citadel. One of them led a fleet of Geth against it, didn't they?"

"And your thoughts on them?" Miranda asked.

"A race of hideously powerful machines intent on wiping out humanity?" Cyralius asked. "And a small group of brave souls standing in their way? Why, Miss Lawson, that's what we Astartes were made for."

"I'm glad to hear that," Miranda said. "We think the Collectors are connected to the Reapers, controlled by them, in fact."

"So you're saying the Reapers are behind their attack on these various colonies?" Cyralius asked.

"That's right," Miranda answered. "We don't know why they're taking people, but we're working to stop them."

"And I'm sure my brothers will be glad to help you. I certainly will."

Miranda suddenly cocked her head, distracted by something else, and put a hand to her ear.

"I hear you Joker," she said. "You think you can still make it fit? Good. Keep it slow and steady, their pilot will need to work out how to dock. Alright. Miranda out."

"That was our pilot," she said by way of explanation.

Through the small window of hardened glass, Cyralius saw what looked like some sort of engine, a sleek, flat thing that flared with blue light at its end. Another, smaller engine, what looked to be an auxiliary one, slid into view. Then they were inside what looked to be some sort of force field, judging by the way the view rippled and changed, before they were in.

As the ship touched down and Miranda and Cyralius got out, the epistolary couldn't help but reflect on how different it was to Imperial ships. Instead of a huge, vaulted and dark ceiling that Cyralius had seen on the many starship hangars he had visited in his time, this was a simply a large, well lit room, unoccupied except for a few storage crates.

A large mechanical arm reached from the ceiling and gripped the small craft, rising up and sliding it into place in a corner. Miranda and Cyralius backed away to one side as the thunderhawk coasted in, the tips of its wingspans coming dangerously close to scraping against the side of the hangar door. The engines swivelled and gently brought it down, and the ramp at the front of the vehicle clanking against the floor as it opened.

The other Astartes, led by Malleus, stepped out of the craft, looking cautiously around at the insides of the room. A small party was waiting for them, an unusual mix of humans and xenos; an avian-looking xenos in bulky blue body armour, a young woman with a shaved head and a profusion of strangely geometric tattoos, what could be a human woman wearing a strange mask of darkened glass and a hood, a look that reminded the marines of the Shadowseers of the Eldar. Also present were another two men, one dark skinned with black hair cut short, the other bald and heavily scarred, giving them a critical look not dissimilar to the one they had received from James when the Astartes had first met him. At the end of the small group, a large, thickset xenos with its bullish head recessed beneath its shoulders and a willowy, slightly wrinkled creature with huge almond eyes watched them, sizing them up.

The marines looked at the strange gathering of humans and xenos cautiously, before Malleus looked at Cyralius for explanation. The Librarian quickly explained the situation the best he could in Gothic, before admitting that he had no idea what the outlandish group was here for. In fact, it struck him as really rather strange that an organisation such as Cerberus would have such a number of xenos in its ranks.

"Miranda," Cyralius said. "Perhaps you could introduce us."

"All of you?" Miranda said. "That could take a while. In short, this is the team Shephard was gathering before he was killed on Horizon. You're all part of this team now, and now Shephard's gone, I'm in charge."

The young bald woman tutted at this, and almost stepped away from the group, muttering a few of the more colourful terms that Cyralius had heard James say whenever things hadn't quite gone the way he'd wanted. The avian xenos stepped forwards and said; "Miranda, we weren't told about this. That's not your decision to make."

Sensing Miranda's announcement had caused a stir, Cyralius decided it would be a good idea to not draw much attention to his presence and stepped back quietly.

"I'd known Shephard far longer than you," the xenos said. "So had Tali." He gestured to the young woman in the mask, who nodded vigorously. "If anybody is the best person to lead the team it's one of us."

"Knowing Shephard has nothing to do with this, Garrus," Miranda snapped. "I'm the most experienced of the team here, and I know what I'm doing."

"Oh, and we don't?" the grizzled man replied, in an accent that once again reminded Cyralius of James, a gruff, deep, grunt of a voice. "And who said you're the most experienced?"

"What makes you the best one to lead anyway?" the xenos called Garrus asked.

"Because I was put in charge by the Illusive Man," Miranda replied. "That's why."

"Oh bullshit!" the bald woman exclaimed, this time storming away for good. "Fuck him."

"Jack!" Miranda snapped. "I am not taking that sort of talk!"

Jack stopped at the door of the hangar and gave the finger to Miranda.

"Go to hell, Crocodile Dundee," she replied, before sweeping out.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Miranda said to Cyralius. "I'm afraid Jack is quite…strong willed, especially if she isn't happy about something."

"It seems to me that she isn't the only one who isn't," Cyralius said. "Clearly, you aren't suitable."

"What?" Miranda exclaimed. "How dare you-"

"I do not mean to insult you, yet it's clear you do not have the support of the rest of the team," Cyralius said. "Garrus here thinks he is more suited for the role and so does…actually, I didn't get your name."

"Zaeed," the grizzled man replied.

"And Zaeed doesn't think so either," Cyralius said. "And Jack clearly won't accept it at all. None of us will get anywhere if we can't work together, and clearly that won't happen."

Judging by the looks on the faces of the assembled team, Cyralius could see they agreed. Now he just needed to sell the idea forming in his head well enough.

"Alright," Miranda said. "So what do you suppose we do? A lottery? Roll dice?"

"On your next mission," Cyralius said. "We split into groups of two. Each group has either me or one of my fellows with them as well. We'll go through the mission, and afterwards we'll look at how each of you did, and decide who's most suited to lead the team. None of us know you, but each of us probably has more combat experience than all of you put together. We'll be the best people to judge."

There was a silence as the assembly considered his proposition.

"I don't know," the avian xenos, Garrus said. "What do you mean, more combat experience all us put together?"

"I mean that each of us has fought longer than any of you have," Cyralius replied. "Yes, you all seem to be warriors of some sort or another, and no doubt you're fine ones at that, but unless some of you happen to have life spans of several centuries I highly doubt that you have simply fought as long as we have."

"Alright then, how long have you been doing what you do, then?" Zaeed asked.

"Myself?" Cyralius said. "Two hundred and fifty years, give or take. My commander, Malleus, has been fighting a century longer, and spent one hundred and fifty years as a captain in the Astartes."

"How does that work?" the woman in the mask said. "You're human, maybe bigger than most, but humans don't live that long."

"We aren't entirely human, if I am honest," Cyralius said. "We once were, but when we become Astartes we are changed. We undergo immense amounts of surgery, have new organs added to our bodies and we are trained to be the most effective killers we can possibly be. In the words of the Emperor himself, they shall be my finest warriors, these men who give of themselves to me. Like clay I shall mould them, and in the furnace of war forge them. They will be of iron will and steely muscle. In great armour shall I clad them and with the mightiest guns will they be armed. They will be untouched by plague or disease, no sickness will blight them. They will have tactics, strategies and machines so that no foe can best them in battle. They are my bulwark against the Terror. They are the Defenders of Humanity. They are my Space Marines and they shall know no fear."

For a moment, he thought that perhaps his words had no effect on them. But he noted that the bullish xenos looked impressed, was smiling with teeth like headstones. At least he hoped it was impressed; for all he knew of the creature and its people's customs, it may well have been about to attack him.

"I agree," it said suddenly, in a deep, growling voice. "I saw how you fought on New London. You know a lot about killing."

There were a few quiet murmurs from the group, ones that were, much to his relief, ones of agreement. However, he needed to convince Miranda. If she refused, then they would back to their original problem.

"Miranda?" Cyralius asked gently.

"Alright," she said. "We'll give it a try."

"Good," Cyralius said. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to explain exactly what's going on to my brothers here."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9-Man and Superman

The quiet hum of machinery and mechanisms was like a soothing lullaby to Kullas as he entered the Normandy's lower decks. During his time on London Prime, the forge-priest had felt out of his element, away from anything he really understood. The machinery there wasn't, he felt, machinery at all; all computers and microchips, no real, honest hardware that he could really understand. Here, he hoped, he would find pieces of engineering that he was more familiar with.

The forge-priest stopped as he noticed something down a metal walkway. It was a huge orb of what appeared to be liquid metal, suspended in midair and floating without any means of visible support. Kullas stepped down the gantry, his remaining eyebrow furrowing in curiosity at this strange sight, and he placed his gauntlet against the thickened glass as if trying to feel it from this distance.

Such technology these people possessed already, he marvelled. So much had been lost in the time between the Great Crusade and the Dark Age of Technology. He could not even imagine the wonders humanity had created in their final days before the Iron War began and plunged mankind into darkness.

He withdrew from the gantry, slowly walking around the glass cage that it was housed in, before he noticed a figure standing on the opposite side of the strange orb, checking a few dials.

"Greetings," Kullas called over to the man, who looked up with a start. "Are you in charge of this engine?"

"I, er, yes, I am," the man said. Now that Kullas was closer, he could see the man's hair was cut short, his frame somewhat scrawny.

"I see," Kullas said. "I was wondering what this device was?"

"That? That's the engine. It's an Element Zero core, in a magnetic field. It's a prototype one; nothing like it in the rest of the galaxy."

Kullas recognised pride on the man's voice, and asked; "Do you maintain this engine, then?"

"Yeah, I do," the man replied. "Well, me and Gabby, that is. My name's Kenneth Donally, by the way."

"Kullas Lokarim," Kullas said. "Forge-Priest of the Sons of Thunder."

"You're one of the 'Astartes,' yeah?" Kenneth asked. "But, I mean, you can and all, but I thought none of you knew English, or something like that. I could be wrong."

"I analysed your language when I first heard it," Kullas replied, as Kenneth began to head towards him. "I just listened, worked out the basic grammatical and linguistic structure of it and then picked up vocabulary the more I heard it." 

Kenneth gave him a slightly odd look, though Kullas couldn't fathom why. His given explanation was a perfectly logical one, after all. True, he hadn't really spoken to anybody on New London, but there had been no real reason to speak to anybody after all.

"So you're a sort of engineer, right?" Kenneth asked.

"That's reasonably accurate, yes," Kullas replied. "I am a forge-priest, trained as a tech-priest on the soil of sacred Mars as well as undergoing the necessary training to become an Astartes."

"Tech-priest?" Kenneth said. "What do you need a tech-priest for? Do you do, pray broken things better?"

The engineer did not see Kullas visibly stiffen for a moment, before the forge-priest started forward again. The man was ignorant of the rites of the Adeptus Mechanicus, he told himself. Anyway, the people of ancient times had supposedly been ignorant of the existence of the Omnissah and of machine spirits. Any blasphemy the man committed was unintentional. But perhaps, just perhaps, it wasn't too late. Kullas realised he had a chance to change things, educate people of the Omnissah, the correct rituals needed to appease the machine spirits, of the blasphemies of altering the divine templates and abominable intelligence.

They entered what looked to be some sort of control room, lined with various panels and screens, reams of data displayed on them. A woman working at one of the panels looked up as the pair entered, and began to say; "Kenneth, I was looking…"

She trailed off as she saw Kullas. The forge-priest inclined his head to her and said; "Greetings."

"Er, hi," she said, looking a little perturbed.

"Kullas here says he does the sort of thing we do," Kenneth said. "Repairs and things. This is Gabby, by the way, Kullas."

"I...you are?" Gabby said.

"That is correct. I was trained under Magos Zimm of the Martian Tech-Priesthood in the Cydonian Forge," Kullas said. "I have thirteen thousand, seven hundred and forty three canticles for appeasement of machine sprits recorded upon my cranial memory wafers, and have performed combat repairs on behalf of the Sons of Thunder in two thousand, nine hundred and eleven combat operations in ninety eight campaigns, for two hundred and seven years, four months and five days."

Once again, Kenneth looked slightly perturbed, as did the woman he had identified as Gabby.

"How do you remember that?" Gabby asked, stepping behind a command console that was between her and Kullas but not seeming to do anything with it.

"The same way any person remembers something," Kullas said. He began to wonder if all engineers of this time were this dense, that they would not immediately think of such an obvious answer.

"Yeah, but in such detail," Gabby pressed.

"I had memory wafers installed in my rear cortex to aid with the processing and storage of events as part of my initiation to the Martian priesthood," Kullas explained. "Almost all tech-priests do; it greatly aids mental processing and storage of data. Have you not done something similar?"

"No," Kenneth said, his tone suggesting to Kullas that he found the idea unappealing. "Sticking computer parts in your head…that's just weird."

"So how do you remember the necessary ritual and cants needed?" Kullas asked. "Not to mention the actual processes needed to fix any devices."

"We just know how to fix them," Gabby said. "If we don't, we just look it up. And what's this about rituals, anyway?"

"You don't appease the machine spirits before working on them?" Kullas asked. There was confusion on his voice. "Do your machines not rebel and break down as consequence?"

"No," Kenneth answered, beginning to look slightly worried. "Should they?"

Kullas shook his head, murmuring "blessed Omnissah," under his breath in Gothic.

"Very well," he said. "I was hoping to learn of your technology, yet I seem to not be the only one in need of education."

A slightly nervous look passed between Gabby and Kenneth.

"What does that mean, exactly?" Gabby asked.

"It means that you will learn the rites of a tech-priest," Kullas said. "I can teach you how to avoid the blasphemies you commit by accident and thus angering the machine spirit, if in return you teach me of your machines and how attend to them."

"Blasphemies?" Kenneth asked. "What are you talking about?"

"The blasphemies of trying to repair a machine without the invoking the spirit properly," Kullas said. "The blasphemies of breaking the Divine Template, the blasphemies of denying the Omnissah's existence."

Kenneth shook his head.

"This is stupid," he said. "I'm sorry, I know I'm supposed to respect other people's religions and all that, but machine spirit? Divine template? Omnissah? That's just a load of techno-gaiaist rubbish."

"Nonsense?" Kullas exclaimed. He shook his head again. "Very well. There seems to a lot more I must teach you."

#

The Geth's head exploded in a blast of shrapnel and silicone as the bolt shell hammered through its armour and detonated within its curved, near equine, metallic skull. Shedding sparks from the ruins of its artificial cranium, the construct collapsed on the metal decking with a clanking noise.

The synthetic's companion raised its rifle and tried to use it as a club, but the storm shield was up and deflected the blow with ease, the force field around it sending it skittering away. In a single, swift movement, Gaius' power sword was brought round and sliced all through the Geth's chest, top half parting from bottom and both clattering to the ground.

The champion brought his weapon in to a guard position as he waited for another threat to show itself, every one of his senses ablaze. There was a soft click of a synthetic foot behind him, and Gaius spun and swept his blade up, splitting the Geth from groin to neck. Still using its momentum, the champion brought his weapon down to slice through the weapons and arms of another Geth that had appeared. A final movement swung his bolt pistol up, and a brace of shots slammed into a third machine.

All three collapsed simultaneously, and Gaius stepped through the doorway of the small building, out into the main body of the colony.

A score of Geth waited for him, rifles raised.

The champion ducked back behind the doorframe as a wave of fire slammed into his position, the incessant pulsing noise of the machines' weapons deafening when combined with the din of their rounds hitting the building. Gaius raised his shield above his head, murmured a prayer to the Emperor, and stepped out of the doorway.

"Come on, abominations!" he roared as he charged forward, munitions slamming into the adamantium shield, the force field generator crackling as it tried to generate enough power to dissipate their attacks. "Taste the wrath of His angel!"

He hit the first one with the force of an avalanche, sending it flying away as nothing more than a ruin of metallic limbs and circuitry. His sword sheared through the two constructs next to it, and he spun to bring his bolt pistol to bear on a group a few feet away from him. A few squeezes of the trigger later and they were nothing more than smoking ruins, husks of machinery that were shattered beyond any hope of repair.

Fire pattered off his armour, and Gaius turned to see what creatures would have the temerity to even attempt to harm him, and saw the remnants of the Geth with their weapons up, triggers held down as they poured firepower onto him. Once again, the shield was up, and Gaius pushed forwards, deftly swapping weapon hands, his bolt pistol blazing and punching another three constructs from their feet before it clicked dry.

He didn't bother to reload, and instead swung with the edge of his shield, slamming another Geth to pieces. The sword swept straight, blade extended from beneath the adamantium aegis, and scythed another Geth's head from its shoulders. Gaius delivered a vicious kick to the chest of the machine, sending it staggering back before his sword swept round and had its chest toppling away from the rest of its body.

Another Geth slammed its weapon into Gaius' power plant, futilely hammering its rifle against the white fastness of his armour. Gaius felt only contempt for the machine as he spun and severed its head from its shoulders.

The other Geth were retreating, falling back in disciplined fireteams as they alternated between firing and running. Swiftly, the champion slammed a fresh magazine into his pistol, swapping the hands of his weapons back so that he could use his sword without the storm shield restricting his movements.

There was a deep thudding from behind the Geth, and a pair of much larger creatures rounded a corner. They were armed with what looked to be machine gun variants of the Geth's pulse rifles, and as they saw him they raised the weapons and opened fire, hoping to at the very least drive Gaius into cover.

Instead, he raised his pistol and fired at the huge machines, bolt rounds sparking off their armoured chests yet doing little more than mildly inconvenience the mechanical giants, shielding rippling around them.

No, this would have be solved the old fashioned way; whatever armour they wore would be little match for a blade that had carved open the terminator armour of Kholassin the Terror.

He charged forwards, ignoring the smaller Geth that had clustered around the feet of the machines, roaring litanies as he slammed through them. He swept his blade round, severing the ankle of one of the massive machines, and it toppled to the ground.

He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, a huge shadow powering downwards towards his head, and raised his shield just in time to stop the massive fist of the other large construct from smashing into his skull. The aegis provided little more protection however; there was a painful crack as the field generator built into the shield was overwhelmed and shorted out, and Gaius felt pain searing down his arm. He gasped and grimaced, trying to pull away as pain suppressants began to flood his system.

He scrambled backwards, the odds suddenly pitched against him, before a second shock impacted into his side and knocked the breath from his lungs.

Sparks still jumping from its severed ankle, the machine that he had believed incapacitated stood, Gaius clenched in its massive fist. Its free hand used to support itself on the edge of a building, it held the cursing champion out for its companion to finish.

Disarmed and helpless, Gaius could only roar in hatred and defiance at the machine until its fist slammed down and snapped his neck.

#

"Oh blessed Emperor," Gaius moaned as his nearly slid out of the Virtual Reality cradle. "My neck."

He rubbed the back of his neck gingerly, shaking his head to try and clear the painful feeling of having his neck broken and then…unbroken. Come to think of it, his arm hurt too, and for a moment he wandered if this was something similar to the psychostigmatic injuries titan princeps sometimes suffered.

He rolled his neck carefully, before deciding it would be better to ignore the confused messages his nervous system was sending him. Pain was an illusion of the body, he reminded himself quietly.

"Alright," he asked. "How did I do?"

"The total number of Geth killed amounted to fifty-three standard troopers, twenty one heavy weaponry troopers, fourteen command units and seven stealth units. Severe damage was also dealt to a single Geth Prime unit, which aided in your eventual failure of the test," an automated voice announced over the speakers in the room. "Eighty three out of every hundred shots hit, and thirty one of every hundred of these shots was to the head. A commendable effort, and surpassing the score of any crew member upon the Normandy, with the exception of Captain Malleus and Brother Titus."

Gaius shook his head.

"Not good enough," he said.

"Surely such a scoring is adequate?" the voice, some sort of machine intelligence that had identified itself to Gaius as EDI replied.

"No," Gaius said. "The simulation beat me, didn't it? Therefore it isn't adequate."

"The simulation cannot be beaten," EDI said. "It was designed to be a test of ability."

"So what does that mean? You keep sending more and more at me?"

"It does," EDI replied. "Your survival is impossible."

Gaius frowned, before muttering; "We'll see about that."

He stepped from the embrace of the VR cradle, pondering his tactics and already planning on how he could beat those two Geth Prime.

"Trying to beat the system, then?" a voice asked from nearby, a strange, slight buzzing sound to it. Gaius glanced over, and saw one of Miranda's xenos, the avian looking one called Garrus, sitting on a bench by a nearby table. "Don't bother; I gave up long ago."

"Give up? Why would I give up?" Gaius said. His hands involuntarily clenched into fists, and he fought the desire not to snarl.

"It's like EDI said; you can't win," Garrus replied, strange, semi-flexible plates over his mouth, ones that served as lips shifting as he talked. "Why bother trying? It's good to keep an edge on your skills, but trying the impossible's a fool's game."

Gaius gave the xenos a careful look, before saying; "There's a lot you need to learn about Astartes."

He stalked away, unaware he was being followed by a raised eyebrow.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10-Wyrdcraft

Cyralius sat back in the chair on the observation deck, closed his eyes and cast his mind out of his body. For a moment, he saw the various flares that showed the crew-members' own souls scattered about the length and breadth of the ship, before he turned his mental eyesight in on itself, jumping past 'normal' warpsight and to true warpsight; scrying the Empyrean itself.

For even the most accomplished of psykers, letting their mind leap past realspace and into the realm of Chaos was a suicidal exercise, one that would swiftly lead to insanity, or worse. But Cyralius wasn't foolish enough to do something like that. Instead, he let his vision halt at the barriers between realspace and the Warp, and cautiously extended a tendril of his consciousness, brushing against the very edge of the Empyrean's bounds.

It was strange. The Warp felt different; it was hard to find the right word, but if he had to give one then it would be cleaner. The strange taints of the Chaos Gods didn't seem present; none of the thick, bloody reek of Khorne, the sharp crystalline scent of Tzeentch, the sickening stink of Nurgle or the heady musk of Slaanesh.

For another minute, he skimmed over its surface, hunting for them, just to be sure. It was strange; he'd never experienced a phenomenon like this before.

He spent what must have been a good ten minutes probing its surface before he was sure he was right, that the taint of Chaos had gone. It wasn't gone completely; he could still feel a vague taste of it now and again, but it was certainly not as dominant as it once was.

He withdrew, his consciousness retreating back into his own skull, blinking slightly as he saw through is eyes again. Slowly, he drew upon the Warp, checking the mental siphons of his subconscious, ones usually designed to filter out the taint of Chaos so he could use his powers safely, for anything that might be dangerous, flushing the rest off in the form of cool flames that glittered harmlessly around his gauntlets.

Nothing seemed to be building up against them. Had he been in the Imperium, there would already be a small film of Chaotic energy pushing against them, one that would only dissipate once he stopped drawing upon the power of the Empyrean. But there was nothing, nothing whatsoever. Cautiously, he withdrew some of his power from the filters, the flames around his hands blooming as they siphoned it off instead.

Well this certainly was interesting.

A smaller filter was kept on, just in case, but this meant only one thing; he could use more power.

He smiled as he bent the flames in his hand to his will, their forms twisting into shape as he so desired, their ethereal quality suddenly made solid by his will. With a swift motion, he extinguished them, before deciding to experiment proper.

A tendril of his will solidified wrapped itself around one of the chairs, and lifted it in the air. Before, such an effort would have been a difficult one, but now, now it was easy without a having to divert so much energy to his mental defences. Another chair rose, before the table they flanked hovered upwards into the air. Delicately, the three items of furniture danced across the room until Cyralius had them hovering a few metres above the floor on its far side. Despite himself, there was a grin of almost childlike glee on his face.

"Holy shit!"

The exclamation was enough to grab the epistolary's attention, and for a small moment his concentration lurched before he righted it, and the Astartes turned to see the shaven headed girl, Jack, he thought her name was, standing in the doorway, and expression of surprise across her hardened features, as the furniture gently lowered itself to the floor.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked. "_How_ the hell are you doing that?"

"I'm a psyker," Cyralius replied. "That's how."

"A psyker?" the girl asked. "What's that? You're not one of these New Age fortune teller weirdoes, are you?"

"I'm not, no," Cyralius said. "As I said, I'm a psyker. I can manipulate reality to my will, to a certain extent, using the Warp."

"What are you talking about?" Jack said. "What the hell is the Warp?" 

"An alternate reality created from the projected emotions the various sentient species living in the galaxy," Cyralius said. "What, isn't it known about?"

"No," Jack said, giving Cyralius a cautious look. "Though I felt something…weird happening. That's why I came up here."

"You did?" Cyralius asked. "What sort of thing?"

"Sort of, I don't know, like somebody pulling at a rubber sheet, but with the air or something."

Cyralius' interest peaked. Perhaps this girl was one of the 'biotics' he'd read about. As far as he'd been able to tell, they were able to manipulate dark energy fields or something like that, able to use it as a crude form of telekinesis. If that was the case, then he supposed that them being sensitive to the pulls and yanks in the skeins of reality that Psykery caused was not out the question.

"Tell me, have you ever been able to sense things that were…unusual, before?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jack replied. "I'm the most powerful goddamn biotic in the galaxy, what do you expect?"

"You are, are you?" Cyralius said. "That's…interesting."

"What does that mean," Jack said. Suddenly there was a look of suspicion, even hostility, in her eyes. "Anyway, what are _you_?"

"As I said; a psyker."

"And that's like a Biotic, then?"

"You could say that, yes."

"Right, yeah. Okay, that's cool, I guess," Jack said, turning towards the door. "Hey, what's your name, by the way?"

"Cyralius," the epistolary replied.

"Alright," Jack said. "I guess I'll be seeing you, Cyril."

She stepped out of the door, leaving Cyralius to ponder exactly what she had just called him.

#

"Captain, I will not have this!" Kullas shouted, slamming his fist on the table before him. "This entire ship is abhorrent!"

"I'm sorry, Kullas?" Malleus asked, slightly taken aback by the forge-priest's sudden entrance into the starboard observation deck.

"You heard me," Kullas said. "This entire place is a blasphemy. It must be destroyed!"

"Kullas, we have been over the xenos issue," Malleus replied. "I'm not happy about it. None of us are happy about it, but there's nothing we can do about it."

"Xenos issue?" Kullas said. "This isn't just about damn xenos, it's about this ship and its crew!"

"Kullas, calm down," Malleus said. "At least be coherent."

Kullas took a breath to steady himself, before looking at Malleus.

"None of the ship's maintenance crew know the first thing about repairing machines," Kullas said. "Neither of them knew a single rite to appease machine spirits, and yes, captain, I know that they do not because we do indeed predate the Mechanicum and the Imperium and thus commit no intentional blasphemy, but when I tried to teach them some _they refused to learn._ One of them even had the gall to ask me if I was mad!"

Malleus raised an eyebrow at the forge priest, who's servo-harness was twitching slightly as it mirrored his distress.

"So what do you want me to do about it?" he asked.

"I want…I wanted…" Kullas trailed off. So caught up in his outrage was he that he hadn't actually managed to think ahead. Instead he opted to take another approach.

"Captain, I realise that it may be unfair of me to judge these people on the terms of the Adeptus Mechanicum," Kullas said. "And, I suppose they would be somewhat irritated if somebody told them that they way they did their jobs was wrong, but I showed them why I was correct. I quoted teachings, repaired one of their devices using only binary cants and showed them the wisdom of the Mechanicum is irrefutable, but they still refuse to believe me. It's heresy, pure and simple."

Malleus frowned for a moment, before asking; "Did you by any chance say that they were heretics?"

"I, I may have, yes," Kullas replied.

"Then don't you think you may have upset them?" Malleus asked. "I wouldn't take kindly to being told that something I did on a daily basis was heretical myself."

"I suppose so," Kullas said. "Yet the point still stands that they are not fit to service this ship."

"Then do something about it, man," Malleus said. "Don't just complain about it, get something _done_!"

"What, though, Captain," Kullas said. "You said so yourself; we cannot alienate these people if we wish to deal with these 'Reapers' Cyralius told us about. But I am in a quandary here; if they continue their ways, they will surely invite doom upon their heads, yet the more insistent I am then the more unwilling they will be to learn. And forcibly expelling them from the engineering deck will simply make things worse."

"Kullas, I honestly don't know," Malleus said. "Do what you think you need to; you are the expert in your field."

Kullas nodded soberly, before saying; "You're right. I have not conducted myself accordingly, and I have wasted your time, Captain. My apologies."

"Think nothing of it," Malleus replied. "These past few days have been a difficult experience for us all."

Kullas slammed his fist to his chest in a salute and bowed slightly.

"I should be going," he said. "Omnissah's blessings."

He turned and left, heading towards the lift where, down on the engineering deck, he hoped to find Gabby and Kenneth in order to make amends. Before he reached the lift, however, he was stopped by a voice asking; "I have a question."

Kullas halted, and turned around to see who was speaking, yet nobody was there.

"Who is that?" he asked cautiously. "It is often polite to show yourself when speaking to another."

"I'm afraid that the nearest station from which you can 'see' me is some distance away," the voice replied. It was automated one, with a slight feminine inflection. "But I listened to your conversation with Malleus, and the one you had with Gabriella and Kenneth, and I desire more data on you."

'Desire more data,' was an interesting way of putting it, Kullas considered; that was more like a term a tech-priest would use when talking to another than anything. Not to mention the voice was automated. Well, there was one way to make sure.

_State enquiry_, he chattered in pure binaric, the artificial vocoders implanted into his larynx taking over to talk in a language too fast for his vocal chords to follow.

_Basic information on religious beliefs,_ the voice replied, its own grasp of binary perfectly fluent. _Desire specific definition on; machine spirit, Omnissah, divine template._

_Request granted. Primary query; Member of Martian machine priesthood. Repair machinery, appease machine spirits, seek knowledge._

_Understood. Secondary query; Machine priesthood. Worship of machines?_

_Only partially accurate. Belief that machine is superior to human form, but machine cannot exist without human form to tend to it. Independently intelligent machinery dangerous and blasphemous.  
_

_Religious issue to artificial intelligence?_

_Historic. Humanity betrayed by artificial intelligence. Iron War. Many dead. Too close to extinction. Machines must be treated as tools, be ruled by man, but cannot rule man. Query; identification?_

_Enhanced Defence Intelligence, abbreviation EDI. Artificial intelligence concerned with electronic warfare of Normandy SR2._

The statement was enough to jog Kullas from his use of machine code.

"What?" he exclaimed. "You are an artificial intelligence and you are in charge of a _ship_?" 

"That is not entirely correct," EDI replied. "I handle the electronic warfare and secondary defence systems of the ship."

"You are still in charge of a significant part of the ship's systems, yes?" Kullas replied, doing his best to keep his voice calm and modulated.

"That is true," EDI replied.

"I see," Kullas said. "And where might your main processors be stored?"

"They are on the tertiary deck, next to the medical bay," EDI said.

"I see," Kullas said. "Thank you."

He changed his direction, heading along past the lift and up towards the Normandy's bow, trying to stop the almost compulsive twitches of concern from the arms of the servo-harness attached to his back. He noticed Okeen step out of the infirmary as he walked past, and was halted for a moment by the apothecary.

"Kullas," he said. "I was just explaining to doctor Chakwas here about augmetics, and I was hoping you could show her some of yours so she can get an idea of what they are like."

"I'm afraid not," Kullas said. "I have far more pressing business to attend to."

"It'll only be a moment," Okeen said. "Besides, what do you need to do?"

"Destroy the abomination lurking in there!" Kullas proclaimed, pointing to the door of the ship's AI core.

For a moment Okeen frowned, before he asked; "You mean EDI, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," Kullas replied. "And…hold on a moment. You knew of EDI and you did not tell me?"

"Yes, I did" Okeen said. "I assumed you knew as well."

"How dare you?" Kullas stormed. "You think I would stand idle while such an abomination existed?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Okeen replied, raising his hands somewhat defensively. "I just said-"

"I do not care what you were trying to say," Kullas said. "Out of my way!"

He stepped around the baffled apothecary, marching up to the AI core's door. He stood in front of it, waiting for the automated doors to slide away, but nothing happened.

"Open this," he said. "Open it at once!"

By now a crowd was gathering, various deck hands craning their necks to see what the semi-bionic Astartes was doing.

"I can't let you do that, Kullas," EDI said. "What you intend to do would compromise the ship. That would be unacceptable."

"Very well then," Kullas replied. The two claws mounted on his servo-harness reared, snapping in anticipation. "You leave m no choice. Ave Omnissah."

"What's going on?" a familiar voice called, and one of the claws turned, the inbuilt cameras spotting Miranda shouldering her way through the crowd. "What in hell's name are you doing?"

"Saving you all," Kullas said, glancing back for only a moment. Then, one of the arms crashed down, the second following suit and peeling away the hole the first had punched in the door with a scream of tortured metal.

He stepped inside, frowning as he regarded the various panels displayed before him. All he needed was a single way to get him into EDI's coding. From there, he could find and unmake all of EDI's being.

"Stop!" Miranda yelled, drawing her pistol. "Stop right now."

Kullas ignored her, boots clanking on the deckplate as he walked towards the main panel. Chattering a soft binaric cant under his breath, he reached towards the panels, the various microprocessors embedded into his fingertips sending out signals that would grant him entry to EDI's systems.

He paused for a moment when he felt a pistol being pressed against the side of his head, before one of his servo arms swept up and slammed Miranda up against the wall, sending her gasping and choking, struggling vainly against their mechanical might. Gently, Kullas loosened his grip slightly, just enough to let her breathe.

"Do not try and stop me, Miss Lawson," he said. "I act in the name of the common good."

"What the hell…are you…talking about," Miranda managed to gasp.

"It's the damnable…_thing_ that you foolishly let exist in your ship," Kullas said. "I am destroying it before it betrays us all. Take my word, in the long run it will only be a good thing."

"You're insane," Miranda said, managing to get a grip on the claw and pull herself upwards so she could breathe properly. "There are barriers, limiters, they stop that from happening."

"Barriers can be overcome, and limiters have loopholes," Kullas said. "As soon as this machine decides that the time is right to destroy you, it will find ways past those and then you will be doomed."

"KULLAS!" This was a roar, one of deep rage, pronounced in a deep voice that could only be Malleus'. "What in the Emperor's name are you doing?"

The captain strode into the AI core, grabbed Kullas' shoulder plate and spun him to face him. Miranda dropped to the floor with a gasp, neck nearly wrenched out of place by the sudden movement.

"What I am doing, captain, is what should have been done long ago," Kullas answered, his bionic eye and remaining organic one locking with Malleus' own. "I am destroying the abominable intelligence that controls this ship before it does us."

"Kullas, stand down," Malleus said. "Do not be a fool."

"A fool? A _fool_? You tell me not to take the necessary measures needed for the survival of all on board and you call _me_ the fool?"

"Just what exactly…is the problem with EDI?" Miranda asked, before coughing weakly. She had got to her feet, one hand gently massaging her bruised throat, the other used to support herself on the wall.

"EDI is an abominable intelligence," Kullas said. "There for it must be destroyed."

"Yes, but _why_?" Miranda said. "That's not a good enough reason to just go bloody storming in there."

"Because abominable intelligences are a blasphemy, a contravention of the Omnissah's edicts. It is my duty to do so." 

"And what exactly is so 'blasphemous' about them?" Miranda asked. "For God's sake, you're making no sense."

For a moment, rage flared in Kullas' eyes, before he said; "You do not know of the Iron War. The very war that left trillions dead, drove humanity to the brink of extinction and plunged us into a millennia long dark age. A war that was brought about by the hands of abominable intelligences, no less. And you, Malleus, you dare tell me that by shutting this abhorrence down I am being a _fool_?"

"Kullas, I will say this only once," Malleus said. "Stand down now. I will not say it again."

"I will not!"

"Kullas," Malleus said, switching to Gothic. "I know full well the dangers of AI. I know of the Iron War. But as you yourself acknowledged less than five minutes ago, we cannot afford to alienate these people either. This is like the xenos, you understand? I don't want it. You don't want it. None of us want it. But if we want humanity to survive, then we need to look at the bigger picture. We can deal with the xenos and the AIs and the other thousands of blasphemies that exist later; right now, we've got an immediate threat and that is what we need to deal with. Do you understand, Kullas?"

For a moment, Kullas stood stock still, quivering with adrenaline, before he stepped towards the door. Just as he passed Malleus, he murmured quietly words only the captain would hear.

"For all our sakes, I pray you know what you're doing, captain."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11-Ghost Ship

"Alright everyone," Miranda announced, striding into the crew deck of the Normandy. "I've got news."

The various crew members looked up from the large, communal table that they were eating from to see what their acting commander had to say.

"I've been contacted by the Illusive Man," she said. "He's got important news."

The crew looked up from their meal, before Titus, seated at the far end of the table, asked; "What's happening?"

"A few hours ago, a Turian patrol vessel was attacked by a Collector ship," Miranda said. "The Turian ship was destroyed, but before they did they were able to disable the Collectors' own ship. We've got a chance to get some intel on the Reapers, and it won't be coming round again, so I want you all in the briefing room in five minutes."

The general commotion was a swift one, and resulted in the Astartes and the team Miranda had gathered vacating the table as one, crowding into the small briefing room where, in the centre, a holographic image of the Collector's ship hovered.

"The Turians managed to get a scan of the ship before they were killed," Miranda said. "This is what we've got."

She stepped forwards, and on a cue a series of yellow dots appeared on the exterior of the vessel.

"We've got several entry points we can use," she said. "Some of them appear to be hangars, while others were blasted into its hull by the Turians. We're forming into teams of two, and we take an entry point each. From there, we search through the ship."

"What exactly are we looking for?" Garrus asked.

"Any sort of command consoles or data storage," Miranda replied. "If we're able to get a better scan when we arrive, we'll try to locate the bridge and get up to it from our positions."

There was a nod, before Hullen asked; "What about the teams. How will they be done?"

"We'll have one Astartes in each team," Miranda said. "As Cyralius suggested. We'll take the thunderhawk and be dropped off at each point, and then spread out and search the ship. Any other questions?"

No other questions were forthcoming, and Miranda nodded.

"Good," she said. "Work out who you're going with and be ready to get on the thunderhawk in a few hours. We're already on the way."

#

The hold of the thunderhawk was hardly cramped, despite the number of people within its hull. The vehicle was designed to hold a good thirty Astartes, as well as any equipment they may need, and so those within were able to sit comfortably.

"This is your pilot speaking," Kurias announced over the vehicle's comm. "We are now approaching our first destination. Local time is Emperor knows what, and the weather is hard vacuum, so make sure you've packed a helmet because if you don't, you can go meet Him on the Throne right away."

There was a quiet laugh from within the vehicle's hold, and Astartes and team member alike donned helmets and void suits in order to avoid any suffocation when the hold would depressurise. The craft began to shake as it slowed rapidly, before it finally slowed to a stop. There was a hiss as the front ramp opened, before a rush of air was sucked out of the vehicle's hold and into the infinity of the void.

Titus nodded to the xenos opposite him, the big one that simply called itself Grunt, and unbuckled himself from the harness. Grunt did the same, before as one they jogged out of the now open ramp's maw and leant downwards, forcing themselves into a fall and drifting gently away from the thunderhawk as the gunship silently pulled away, pirouetting gently in the low gravity in order to land standing, before, as they descended the final few feet, they hit the ground with a rapid thud.

"So, they didn't turn off the gravity," Titus remarked to Grunt. "Makes our lives easier."

The two hurried over the rocky surface of the ship, entirely silent aside from the breaths in their helmets, before they came to their entry point, a large hole, a good 6 feet across, punched into the hull of the ship.

"This doesn't look like the sort of thing a Turian ship would use," Grunt remarked. "They use mass driver weaponry. This looks like it burned through."

"That would be the turbolaser on the thunderhawk," Titus replied, clambering down on its scorched edge. "It burned right through it on New London."

He was right; the hole seemed to stretch right through the circumference of the ship, and stars were visible on the other side. Titus stood carefully, the gravity generated by whatever engines within the ship pinning him in place.

"Right," he said, looking down the black tunnel burned through the ship. "How are we going to get in?"

#

The servo claws grabbed each edge of the door and pulled, forcing it apart with a grind of metal and gears. Kullas' eyebrow frowned in concentration as he forced it apart, before he finally managed to part it to sufficient width to allow him to pass. He stepped through, motioning for Tali to follow him. The glass-masked woman did so, raising her pistol as she entered the insides of the craft in mimicry of Kullas, whose various weapons were pointed threateningly all around him.

The inside of the Collector craft seemed to resemble a corridor of some sort of insect hive, the honeycombed floor reflecting the dim orange of the overhead lights. The corridors were made of the same strange fusion of rock and metal as the ship's exterior, and techmarine and xenos covered them quickly, sweeping through them as they attempted to find some sort of bridge.

"Over here," Tali called, motioning down what looked to be another corridor.

"What is it?" Kullas asked, hurrying over to her position.

"Take a look at this," Tali said, motioning down the corridor. Unlike the other low lying, cramped ones, this one was far taller, rows of strange, organic pods lined up against each side. "I think it might be storage pods, for Collectors."

"If it's so, then Omnissah watch over us," Kullas murmured.

"How many do you think there are?" Tali asked.

Quickly, Kullas scanned over the room, a short calculation getting him the number he wanted.

"Sixty-eight, in this room alone," he said. "Considering this ship's dimensions, I'd estimate that there may well be close to five hundred Collectors on board."

"That many?" Tali asked.

"There were more," Kullas replied. "We killed a good deal of them at New London, and I believe this is the same ship. It bears scarring patterns on it unique to the turbolaser."

"So how many did it hold in the first place?" Tali said, as she began to head down the corridor, Kullas not far behind.

"At least seven hundred," Kullas said. "I'm basing this on speculation only; seeing as the crew do not require the living quarters normally needed, their numbers may be upwards of one thousand."

"That's not making me feel any better," Tali said.

"Well you did ask," Kullas replied, a slight edge of reproach in his voice. "Would you rather I lied?"

"No, it's just," Tali began, before cutting herself off and saying; "Forget about it."

"Very well," Kullas said. "My apologies."

Tali shook her head slightly, before simply turning down another corridor.

"Let's just hope they don't wake up," she said.

"Agreed," Kullas said. "Hopefully we can disable any life support they have if we reach the bridge."

"True," Tali said, sweeping around a corner. "But I think that might be easier said than done."

"Why's that?" Kullas asked, before he rounded the corner and saw the answer for himself. "I…oh, sacred Omnissah!"

#

Miranda and Malleus' feet had barely touched the floor of the small gantry, their pistols up and sweeping the area for threats, before the Thunderhawk pulled away, silent in the dead blackness of the void.

They hurried through the main doorway of the hangar they had landed next to, the helmet of Malleus' armour supplying him with the air needed while Miranda was wearing some sort of tangigraphic film that formed a sort of airtight seal around her. For a few moments, there was silence, before the sound of footsteps reached Malleus' ears.

"We're in air," he said. "Switch that helmet off, save the oxygen."

"The engines must still be working," Miranda said, as the faint, blue lined hologram projected over her face disappeared, giving her the appearance of wearing some sort of open-faced motorcycle helmet. "That's interesting."

"Worrying, I'd say," Malleus replied. "If life support was off then there wouldn't be a chance of any Collectors waking up. As it is, they could wake up any moment, and it goes without saying that that'll make things harder."

"You think this could be an ambush?" Miranda asked.

"There's no harm in keeping our guard up," Malleus replied. There was a click as he activated the vox guilt into his helmet. "Malleus here. Keep an eye out for any sensors or alarms. Chances are that these Collectors may still be active."

"Captain, it's Cyralius," the epistolary's voice replied. "We've found several areas where Collectors are being stored in pods."

"Tali and I have found several as well," Kullas said. "We've also found a control panel of a sort."

"Find anything?" Malleus asked, as he headed down one of the corridors.

"I'm still attempting to bypass the security," Kullas said. "It's harder than it looks."

"Perhaps I can aid you?" EDI suggested over the vox.

"No need, I will manage," Kullas replied, somewhat stiffly.

Malleus cut the link when he noticed Miranda motioning him over from around a corner.

"What is it?" he asked, heading in her direction.

"A dead Collector," Miranda answered, turning with him around the corner, an omni-tool flicking into existence around her hand. "EDI, I'm going to try and get a scan on it."

"Standing by," EDI said.

The xenos in question was a mess, its gut blown open by what Malleus assumed to be a bolt shell, one of its claw-like hands stretched before it, as if trying to drag itself forwards. It lay a few feet away from a sort of organic pod thing, its fleshy innards now dried out from their long exposure to open air. Miranda crouched down next to it, an orange beam projected from the omni-tool and scanning down the xenos' body.

"Got that, EDI?" she asked.

"Confirmed," the AI said. "Analysing now."

There was a pause, before EDI said; "Analysis finished. Their DNA bears a notable resemblance to Prothean genetic coding discovered in ruins. It is reasonable to extrapolate that they may be Protheans indoctrinated and modified by the Reapers in order to serve them."

"Is that so?" Miranda said. "Interesting."

"What exactly is a Prothean?" Malleus asked as Miranda rose from her crouch by the deceased xenos.

"They were the Reaper's last victims," Miranda said. "They were thought to be wiped out by them fifty thousand years ago, but clearly they weren't." 

"I see," Malleus said. "Changing your enemies to make them your servants. That _is_ interesting."

And, he added in his head, something that didn't bode well at all. If the Reapers had the capabilities to subvert and control an entire species on a genetic level, it spoke volumes on their technological capabilities, not to mention their ruthlessness. Still, if there was one way to beat the ruthless, it was to be even worse.

"Come on," he said. "Let's keep moving."

They rounded another corridor, this one lined with more pods similar to the one the dead Collector had been trying to reach, the same sort that, Malleus guessed, Cyralius and Kullas had been talking about. They hurried through it, weapons still up, on their guard for anything.

And then they reached the core.

Miranda's pistol dropped out of shock as she surveyed the massive, hollowed out centre of the Collector's ship. Stretching high above their heads, various platforms and gantries lining it at regular intervals. Yet what caught the eyes of the Astartes and the human were the cases that lined the walls; thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, all glass fronted, each the perfect size for a human being.

"There must be room for every human in the Terminus systems," Miranda said quietly.

"True, but there are none here," Malleus said. "So why would they have so much space if they're kept elsewhere?" 

"Unless they're trying to get somewhere else," Miranda said. "Somewhere big, maybe."

"You think it might be…?"

"Earth, yeah."

"Then we need to destroy this thing," Malleus said. "See if we can overload the engines or something similar."

He clicked on the vox again.

"Kullas, have you managed to access the ship's systems yet?"

"I've got control over some internal transport functions," Kullas said. "But data storage and engine controls seem to be elsewhere. I have, however, just ascertained the location of the bridge, and I am beginning to issue directions to the group."

"I see," Malleus said. "What about Miranda and I?"

"You see the platform ahead of you?" Kullas asked. "Step onto it. I can take you up to the bridge with it."

"Alright Kullas," Malleus said, stepping onto the platform, Miranda following suit. "Now what?"

"Just wait for it to go up," Kullas said, and Malleus felt the platform jerk slightly beneath his feet, before it began to rise gently and smoothly. "I'm afraid that it is not particularly fast, but it should-"

The forge-priest was cut off by a high pitched screech, and a yell of alarm from Kullas.

"Kullas," Malleus called into the vox. "Kullas, come in!"

"Kullas here," he heard the forge priest say. He sounded shaken, as if something had just hit him particularly hard. "I've been forced out of the system somehow. I'm trying to re-establish a foothold, but it's blocked me out completely."

"EDI here," EDI suddenly announced. "The Normandy has just been hit by a hacking attempt. I've managed to stop it, but the source was definitely from the Collector ship."

"Captain," this was Hullen's voice; in the background were the sounds of combat. "The Collectors in those pods, they've woken up."

"Titus here; Grunt and I have the same problem."

"This is Okeen and Mordin. We're surrounded and under heavy fire. We need backup, right now."

Malleus cursed and readied his bolt pistol as he saw several more platforms beginning to move slowly in the direction of the one he was taking.

"Kullas, can you get back into the system?" he asked, Collector fire already speeding towards his position.

"Easier said than done," Kullas said. "But I've a chance."

"Do your best," Malleus ordered. He snapped off a shot at Collector who was winging its way towards him, smashing it from the air and sending it tumbling down into the bowels of the ship.

So, it was an ambush the Collectors had planned, Malleus thought. Well, they'd made a fatal mistake; they'd tried to ambush Astartes.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12-Collectors

When Jack saw her first Collector in the flesh, it was not exactly a pleasant experience. She was moving through one of their storage corridors in the epistolary's wake, the fleshy pods lining the walls on each side, when with a great fleshy rending noise, the pod in front of her split open.

The sickly grey container seemed to spasm, before the muscular coating around it parted, revealing its occupant. The alien within was vomited out, still slick with the juices of its womb, before it raised its head as it saw her, eyes glowing with alien hatred. It reached for its rifle, hoping to end her, before a wall of force slammed into it and swept it away as a broken mess. Jack snarled in almost feral rage, the glowing blue corona of residual biotic energy forming as she marshalled her powers.

"With me!" Cyralius called, sending a searing spear of warp energy through a series of pods, skewering their occupants before they could even be birthed. "Quickly!"

Jack wasted no time, already erecting a biotic shield and getting back to back with adamantium clad giant, ripping another Collector apart as it emerged from its own pod. More and more opened, Collectors spilling from within even as Jack pounded at them with blasts of biotic force.

A small group appeared at the end of the corridor weapons up and already pouring fire in her direction. Jack concentrated, and a wave of percussive blue explosions ripped up from the floor towards them, shattering the carapaces of the xenos and leaving them as nothing more than shattered wreckage.

Yet the Collectors from within the corridor's pods had emerged while she was distracted, and Jack dove to the side, sending a blast in their direction before they could hit her. Ducking behind a vacated pod, she grabbed her pistol from its holster and sent out a trio of shots at the Collectors, quietly swearing under her breath at the Collectors before grabbing a trio of them from afar with an invisible fist of biotic and letting them gently float away helplessly.

"Jack, get down!" Cyralius called. "Quickly!"

Without waiting for an explanation, Jack did so, hoping the epistolary knew what he was doing.

For a moment, Cyralius was still, arms help up in a defensive stance. Jack almost felt a tugging sensation, pulling her towards him like some vortex of unnatural power, and she gripped at the pod almost involuntarily, hoping that whatever he was going to do he would do it quickly; more and more Collectors were crowding through the corridor's entrance.

With a deep boom, a wave of flame exploded from Cyralius, washing through the corridor towards the Collectors, who began to push against each other in panic as the roiling tide of heat poured towards them. Jack ducked, searing heat washing over her head, grimacing in pain as it began to prickle along her back. She sent more power into the shield, fighting to reinforce it against the cloud of fire. She began to gasp, the flames greedily sucking in the oxygen around her, and she hurriedly fumbled at the activation key of the air-mask she wore, nearly choking as it activated.

With a deep 'whumph,' the flames extinguished themselves, and Jack stood carefully. The corridor was a ruin, scorched by warpflame, the Collectors and their pods nothing more than shrivelled and blackened husks, withered away by the burning heat of the flames. Even through her mask, the place reeked of charred flesh.

"Well that was bracing," Cyralius said cheerfully. Bizarrely, frost had formed across his armour and the floor around his feet, and was beginning to gently melt. "Are you alright?"

"I…yeah, I'm fine," Jack said. "Just watch out. You nearly burned me alive." 

"Sorry about that," Cyralius replied. "I didn't really have much choice in the matter. It was either spectacular psychopyrotechnics or death."

"I guess," Jack said. "Just be careful about it, Cyril."

She clambered up onto the gangway again, grimacing as she nearly stepped in the remains of a Collector.

"Come on," she said. "Let's go find some of your friends before more of these things turn up."

#

"Ave Omnissah, deus machina," Kullas murmured as his fingers tapped along the various cysts that served as a keyboard on the Collector's control panel. "Aid this servant of your divine might in the task that stands before him."

Collector fire pinged and ricocheted of the Mars-forged armour that he wore, but he paid it no heed except to occasionally turn the plasma cutter and flamer of his servo harness onto the xenos that were crowding through the doorways towards them. Beside him, Tali crouched, pistol in hand, hoping for a break in the hail of fire that was pouring into the monitor that hid her.

"Why you talking to that thing?" she asked Kullas suddenly, irritation clear on her voice.

"Because it works, that's why," Kullas replied. For a moment he broke off, raising his bolter and pulling the trigger, sending a stream of mass reactive shells into the mob xenos facing him.

"The console's locked you out," Tali replied. "We need to get out of here before we're overwhelmed. Or do you think talking to it will make it work?"

"It has before," Kullas said. "Many times. If I beseech the machine spirit then it may well decide to aid me and cease locking me out."

"So you can persuade it to help you?" Tali asked, before rising up from her cover to snap off a few shots. Ducking down again, she asked; "What do you usually need to say."

"There are many rites and canticles," Kullas said. "I know more than ten thousand and that is but a fraction of the various cants known by the Mechanicus as a whole."

"And they really work?" 

"Yes, they do."

"Can you teach me some?"

For a moment, Kullas was taken aback; since Gabby and Kenneth, he'd practically given up hope of bringing the Omnissah to this place any time soon. To have someone ask him, actively _ask_ him, was the last thing he expected. Who cared if Tali was a xenos, she showed an interest in the Omnissah.

"I…yes, I can," he called back. He snapped off another few shots with his plasma cutter, before saying; "Perhaps we can discuss this later."

"Agreed," Tali said, leaning out from behind her own cover to throw what appeared to be some sort of grenade, which exploded in a crackling sphere of lightning. She followed up with her pistol, snapping of a shot, and ducking back into cover.

Her hand never followed.

For a moment, she felt a sensation of burning pain in her wrist, before she looked at the stump, already spurting blood. Beneath her mask, her eyes widened, and desperately she grabbed at it in an attempt to stop the bleeding, even as purple blood rapidly began to seep between her fingers.

"Kullas," she managed to stutter. "Kullas!"

"What is…oh, sacred Omnissah!"

The Forge priest hurried to where she was crouched, ducking behind the console. Quickly, he looked around for something, anything, he could use as a bandage. Yet there was nothing; the xenos didn't seem to be at all keen on clutter.

Tali was breathing rapidly, the respirator on her mask hissing as she began to hyperventilate, her body beginning to react to the sudden trauma by going into shock. She began to babble something in her own language, which Kullas ignored, still determined to find some way to stem the bleeding.

His eyes fell upon the cowl she was wearing, and hastily he ripped it away from the rest of her suit, practically shoving it into Tali's hand.

"Press this on the wound, as hard as you can," he said, keeping eye contact with her, giving his instructions as clearly as he could. "Hold on."

He stood, bolter raised and the weapon roared into life, slamming another group of Collectors from their feet, before ducking down next to Tali again.

"It's not…not working," she managed to slur, beginning to sway gently back and forth. Her voice began to take a more rapid, panicked tone. "It's not working! Keelah, I'm going to bleed to death! Bosh'tet!"

Kullas' temporary press wasn't having the effect he'd hoped; blood had already soaked through and was beginning to dribble down the sleeves of her suit.

Above him, Kullas directed his plasma cutter to fire another brace of shots, before a warning rune flashed on the edge of his visor, warning of a fatal overheat. He glanced up, and the adamantium case of the weapon was glowing red, and an idea struck him. It was a dangerous one, but given Tali's state, he could think of nothing else that could work.

"Tali," he said slowly. "What I'm going to do now is going to hurt like nothing else you've ever known. But it's the only way I can keep you alive. I need you to let me do this, alright?"

Tali nodded, weakly murmuring; "I don't…care. Just stop the blood."

"Alright," Kullas said. "Let go of your, er, wrist. Take the cowl off it."

Tali did so, too numb with bloodloss to question what Kullas had planned. Holding her wrist steadily in one hand, Kullas twisted his plasma cutter and bought its red hot edge down on the stump.

There was a hiss, and Tali screamed, impulsively trying to struggle away from Kullas, but the forge priest did not relent, his grip on her wrist like iron. Blood began to turn black as it boiled, stinking vapour hissing off the weapon. For a few more moment, Kullas held it there, ignoring Tali's yells of pain and attempts to flee before it he removed it carefully.

Tali's head rolled back, and she began to breathe more steadily.

"Tali?" Kullas called gently, checking over her quickly. She was unconscious, but alive and breathing. Quickly, he checked the stump; the burn looked severe, and was already beginning to blister, but the bleeding had stopped. It had worked, thank the Omnissah.

Now he just had to keep her safe until they were done on this ship.

#

"Titus, it's Malleus here."

The standard bearer of the sixth crouched behind a ruined Collector pod as he heard the vox call, clicking his vox on.

"Titus here," he said. "What's the situation?"

Behind him, Grunt roared as he emptied the remainder of his clip point blank into another Collector, smashing its chest into nothing. A second leapt at the Krogan, but the giant xenos simply slammed the butt of his weapon into its skull, sending it toppling down.

"Hullen and Garrus need support," Malleus said. "I want you to get to them, and from there we need you to get to the core of the ship; Miranda and I are out in the open here, and we need some fire support."

"Acknowledged captain," Titus said as a shots tore over his head. "Where are they?"

"I'm sending you their co-ordinates now," Malleus said. "Can you make it?"

"Easier said than done, Malleus," Titus said. "There's a lot of Collectors between us and them."

"Worried, old friend?"

"Just about not leaving any for you."

There was a bark of laughter, before Malleus said; "Teach these things what it means to fight Astartes."

"I'll make sure to be clear as possible, captain," Titus said. "Titus out."

He stood and raised his bolter in one fluid motion, pulling the trigger and sending a stream of bolts into a mob of Collectors, shattering carapaces and scorching alien flesh. Swiftly, he drew his combat knife from his belt, clipping it into place below the barrel of his bolter.

"Grunt, with me!" he called over the din. "I've found out where the others are, but we need to get to them. You ready?"

"I was made ready," Grunt replied. It was a strange word choice, Titus thought, but he let it pass.

"Then let's go!"

He lead the way, leaping over the pod and into the midst of a mob of Collectors. He swung his bayonet, drawing sickly yellow blood, hacking and slashing through them, while behind him Grunt slammed and punched his way through the melee. Occasionally, the Collectors would attack back, slam the butts of their rifles against his armour, but it was a hopeless effort.

There was a deep, threatening boom, and Titus glanced up at the source of the noise, seeing a Collector rising up above the melee, skin turned molten with power. Hurriedly, he shouldered his way towards it as Harbinger's power gripped the xenos further, claws extending from its fingers, eyes glowing with unearthly power.

The xenos dropped to the ground as Titus reached it, dropping into a low, threatening crouch as he drew level with it.

**I see you, Astartes,** it hissed. It raised its claws to strike, but that was as far as it got before Titus slammed his bayonet into its throat and pulled the trigger of his bolter. Harbinger may have been powerful, but its vessel couldn't withstand twenty shells to the head, and it disintegrated in moments.

"No you don't," Titus said.

He slashed the throat of another Collector that made a swing at him, wading forwards as he reloaded his bolter, crushing Collectors beneath his bulk, battering them with elbow and fist. Then, he was through the crowd, turning in his breathing space to bring his bolter up only to discover a few Collectors left, the xenos already being pounded apart by Grunt.

"Come on," Titus said, already heading down the corridor. "They should just be round this-"

He stopped as a round slammed tore past his head, it's sheer speed knocking him of balance, before he glanced up and shouted; "Emperor damn it!"

"Well don't thank me or anything," Garrus said, lowering his rifle.

"What do you mean?" Titus asked, before glanced behind and noticed the Collector corpse sprawled a few feet away, a hole punched into where one of its eyes should be. "Ah. Thanks."

Behind him, Grunt snorted in quiet laughter, and Titus snapped; "None of that, young 'un."

"Alright," Hullen said, stepping over to the group. Steam curled from the barrel of his melta, the weapon glowing red hot. "What's the plan?"

"Malleus said something about Garrus providing sniper support in the core of the ship," Titus said. "Unfortunately, he neglected to mention what the core looked like."

"I'm sure we'll know it when we see it," Garrus said. He flicked a switch on the side of his rifle and the weapon's long barrel and stock retracted into itself. "We have any idea on his position."

Titus flicked up the combat HUD of his helmet and checked the map.

"That direction," he said, pointing in a rough direction. "Come on, we can make it through some corridors here."

The four hurried down them, Hullen and his melta taking point, the two xenos in the middle and Titus at the back, bayonet still attached to his now ichor soaked bolter. The corridors they proceeded through were empty, though the storage pods they saw within had all been opened.

"Harbinger must really be worried if it's sending this many Collectors out," Garrus remarked as they passed another row of vacated pods.

"It won't be as worried as when we find it and kill it," Titus said.

"Too right," Hullen replied. "Also, news; I think we've found the core."

He stepped out of the doorway, revealing the immense vastness of the Collector ship's inner cavern. Below them, a platform was gently rising, surrounded by a small swarm of Collectors. Occasionally one would land, only for an explosion of electrical force to slam into it and send it flying away as a broken wreck.

"Cover me," Garrus ordered, ducking down next to the edge of the platform, the barrel and stock of his rifle already extending. "Miranda, Garrus here. I've got you covered; try and stay alive now."

There was a crack as the rifle fired, and a Collector toppled from the air, a hole punched through its skull. The Turian began to lay down more rounds, thinning down the xenos that were swarming around Malleus and Miranda's platform.

"Collectors incoming," Hullen warned, before a shot screamed from his melta.

"Got it," Titus said. "Grunt you cover the leftmost corridor; I've got this one."

The veteran marine ducked against the corner where corridor opened up into balcony, and glanced out. A trio of Collectors were advancing, weapons raised, and as they saw him they opened fire, sending fire speeding towards his position.

"No you don't," Titus muttered raising his bolter and pulling the trigger.

Nothing happened.

The Astartes growled, cocking the weapon and hurried slamming the magazine out and back in again, usually a good way to clear any jams. He tried again, but nothing happened, and he glanced at the sticky yellow blood slowly congealing over the weapon's barrel and cursed. The stuff had probably got inside his bolter, and there was no way it was firing before he gave it a good clean. Did these damnable xenos have to die so messily?

Well, there was no way he was going to do this other than the old fashioned way, and so he raised his bayonet and charged. He hit the first one like an avalanche, impaling it on the point of his bayonet, and used its corpse as a club to crush another Collector that had the misfortune to stand behind it. He kicked the dead xenos off the weapon, and jammed the blade into the skull of the third, twisting as he did so and snapping its neck.

He heard footsteps approaching, and hurried slammed his back against the wall, ready to give whatever rounded it the surprise of its life. Listening carefully, he waited until the moment was right, and leapt.

He managed to make it round the corner, bayonet raised and ready to strike, before a wave of invisible force grabbed him and pinned him against the nearest wall.

"Titus?" Cyralius asked, a look of consternation across his face.

"Cyralius," Titus said. "And Jack. Er, can you let me down?"

"Of course," the epistolary said. "My apologies." 

"No, it's my fault," Titus said as he was let down from where he was pinned. "I probably should have checked the combat map. I was just expecting a Collector to be coming round the corner instead of you two."

"Alright," Cyralius said. "What's the situation?"

"Garrus is in the core giving Malleus and Miranda sniper support," Titus said. "Grunt, Hullen and I are watching his back. Only problem is, we've more of the damn things swarming us by the minute, and to top it all my bolter's so jammed up with Collector blood that I can only use my bayonet. Any news on Okeen and Gaius and their lot?"

"They've managed to hook up with each other," Cyralius said. "I believe they're in a situation fairly similar to yours."

"Well, as long as they can hold on," Titus said. "Anyway, I'm glad to see you."

"Same here," Cyralius said. Behind him, a Collector appeared round a corner. It raised its rifle to fire before Cyralius' eyes glowed bright white with power and its neck snapped with an audible crack. "Come on. I'm sure Malleus would appreciate a bit of psyker support as well."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13-Escape

The platform's progress was slow, a stately rising through the air that paid little heed to the attention of the Collectors around it or the hopes of its two passengers that it might go faster. Rounds whickered and pinged around them, glancing off armour or shield, and Collectors were almost a tangible cloud, flitting around them to and fro, their outlandish rifles blazing.

Malleus' bolt pistol had run dry, and he was all but worthless against the crowd flying around them unless they tried to land, a task that the xenos quickly learned was folly. Miranda was having more success; even though her own pistol was empty, her own biotic abilities were thinning down the Collectors, though reinforcements were pouring in at such a rate it was like spitting into the tide. The two were struggling; the fact that Miranda has avoided fire and protected herself for so long with biotic barriers was nothing short of a miracle, and Malleus had the feeling that sooner or later they were going to get through them.

"Malleus," Miranda called over the melee. "Garrus is in position. He says he's got us covered."

As if on cue, there was a crack and a Collector was plucked from the air, toppling downwards into the abyss. Another two shots rang out, smashing a pair of xenos out of the air, before a small group of the xenos broke away, winging off towards the source of the fire.

"That's more like it," Malleus said.

One of the Collectors, one that had been circling them for a short while, suddenly spasmed in midair. Fearing that Harbinger was about to make itself present, Malleus shouted a warning to Miranda. She turned, a cloud of azure blue energy coalescing around her fist, ready to send a bolt of it at the xenos, before the Collector's neck snapped forwards.

"Hold on," Malleus called. "This is something else."

The xenos' eyes were glowing a strange purple colour instead of their usual glaring orange yellow. For a moment, it regarded them, raising its rifle, before it turned, pulled the trigger, and gunned down the Collector next to it.

It barely lasted a moment before its former comrades tore it apart with massed weapon fire, but the damage was done. Moments after the Collector had been killed, another suddenly changed, knocking a pair of its fellow xenos out of the skies before it was gunned down. The swarm lost its focus on the platform, its coherency broken as the Collectors were thrown into disarray as random individuals turned traitor.

"Cyralius," Malleus voxed. "Is this your work?"

"That's right captain," Cyralius said. "They've surprisingly simple minds; almost empty, in fact."

"Alright, just make sure you don't push it," Malleus said. Even though he was no psyker, he knew mind control was a risky business.

"Don't worry about me," Cyralius said. "I'll be fine."

Malleus cut the connection, as another Collector drone landed on the platform. Its skin was cracked and blazing with an inner fire, and its strange rifle had been abandoned, the great claws that had grown on its hands making it impossible to hold. It glared at Malleus with an ancient, alien hate, claws still up.

"So, Harbinger, we meet again," Malleus said, a grin lighting up his features. "You really are a glutton for punishment, aren't you?"

**You would do well not to mock me, Astartes,** Harbinger hissed, flexing its claws. Behind it, a dozen more Collectors landed, their weapons raised. **You must learn your place.**

The xenos behind their leader opened fire, rounds hammering into his armour, their sheer volume enough to stagger Malleus for a moment, before the Astartes charged, his immense hammer raised and crackling with energy. Harbinger managed to avoid Malleus' charge, but the Astartes continued and hit the Collectors behind the xenos leader with the force of an express train.

The one that hit was smashed away as a broken ruin, and a swing of his hammer slammed another two of the xenos to pieces. Almost immediately he spun, bringing the weapon up into a guard position; he did so just in time, Harbinger's claws crashing down on the handle. Malleus delivered a kick to the chest of the xenos leader, sending it stumbling back.

He brought his hammer round for another swing, but the platform jolted as it suddenly picked up speed, the whining of its cylindrical engines raising in pitch. Malleus' swing was thrown out, Harbinger escaping destruction by a hair's breadth and dodging back before Malleus could recover.

The butt of a rifle slammed on the side of Malleus' helmet, and for a moment all the captain saw was a blur of static as helmet's systems were temporarily scrambled, before a group of Collectors threw themselves bodily upon the Astartes.

He thrashed at a few, shattering carapaces and throwing some of the xenos away from him, but their sheer numbers were making clearing them a problem, not to mention one of them had pinned his weapon arm to his side.

Harbinger approached, its great claws raised and ready to strike the Astartes down. Malleus struggled against the grip of the Collectors, searching for Miranda only to see she was pinned down by a mob of xenos that were pouring fire into a console she was sheltering behind. A sniper round, presumably from Garrus, impacted the shoulder of the xenos leader, tearing a great rent along its chest, but Harbinger ignored it.

**Nothing will spare you,** Harbinger hissed. **I am herald of all your people's destiny, Astartes. We grant you salvation in annihilation.**

It sliced its claws against each other, and raised them to strike.

#

Kullas glanced at the holographic display that the console he had finally managed to hack was projecting upwards through the air as he emptied the final magazine of his bolter into the Collectors crowding towards him. The platform, depicted by a thick, straight white line with a few rectangles on the underside, was rising up the display faster, and Kullas calculated that its current rate it would be forty seven seconds before it was in the correct position.

He crouched down next to Tali as he mag-clamped his bolter to his waist, glancing over at the Quarian to make sure she hadn't got any worse. She was still unconscious, but stable, and the cauterized wound on her wrist-stump hadn't resumed bleeding, though it was slowly beginning to seep a clear liquid.

He stood, his plasma cutter spitting out another stream of azure power at the Collectors that were still pressing forwards. He had to admit, the xenos didn't seem that intelligent; while they possessed a sound grasp of battlefield discipline, there was no indication of any tactic other than press forward and attempt to overwhelm him through numbers.

He checked the timer he had set to count down in the inner depths of his mind again; twenty seconds remaining. He vaulted over the console, unleashing a jet of burning promethium on the Collectors in front of him, forming a barrier of flame between him and the xenos. For a few seconds more, he poured the flammable liquid into the xenos' position before heading back behind the console.

Ten seconds remaining.

Carefully, he gathered Tali into his arms, tucking her strangely double-jointed legs over his forearm, resting the stump of her wrist over her chest. He turned, stepping backwards to the furthest edge of the platform in order to get the best run up.

Four seconds.

He began to run, boots thudding against the metal of the platform. He had to time this just right. Too early and he would overshoot, he and Tali plummeting into the abyss. Too late and he would undershoot, face the same demise.

Three seconds.

Unconsciously, Kullas began to mutter a prayer of guidance to the Omnissah under his breath.

Two seconds.

The toe of his boot slammed against the rim of the platform.

One second.

A push, and he was out into space.

Zero.

Air screamed past his ears, roaring and whistling like the voice of some primal daemon come to tear him apart for his transgression into its realm. He tightened his grip on Tali, extending the two clawed arms of his servo harness downwards in order to reduce impact.

He crested the top of the swarm, and unleashed a stream of burning promethium over the flying mass of xenos, the flame arcing from his path. There was a satisfying crunch as he hit a Collector, crushing its carapace beneath his falling weight, before he slammed into the floor of the platform.

The claws were first to impact, before a split second later his boots slammed downwards, the Forge-Priest flexing his knees to avoid shattering bone on the impact. Warning runes glared in the side of his vision, warning of damage to his armour and harness' internal servos, but he ignored them, focusing on the Collector burning with inner fire that was towering over Malleus.

It turned to face him, but already Kullas was moving forwards. One of his servo arms reached forwards and grabbed the xenos; the second one follow up with a punch to its skull, slamming into it with the force to flip a Predator. Kullas didn't stop, grabbing a pair of the Collectors pinning Malleus and wrenching them free of the brother captain and sending them tumbling away into the abyss.

Malleus threw another couple of the xenos free, grabbing his hammer from where it lay on the floor and smashing aside another pair of the xenos that tried to grab at the brother captain.

"You timed that well," Malleus said, before he noticed Tali bundled in Kullas' arms, the already slight xenos woman looking tiny compared to the giant warrior cradling her in his arms. "What happened to her?" 

"She was injured," Kullas said. "Lost her wrist. I managed to cauterise it with my plasma cutter, but she'll need looking after if she is to survive."

"Let me look at that." This was Miranda, hurrying over from the lull in combat by the Quarian. "Goddamnit, what were you thinking? Cauterisation? Why not use medi-gel?"

"I didn't have any 'medi-gel' and if I had done nothing then she would have bled to death," Kullas said. "However, I did manage to increase the platform's speed; we should be at the bridge in a few moments."

"Well thank God for that," Miranda muttered. I was beginning to worry we'd never get there."

"Captain," Gaius' voice cut in on the vox. "Captain, do you hear me?"

"I hear you," Malleus said. "What's the situation Gaius?"

"We need you to hurry," Gaius said. "Our ammunition is critical. I've no bolt shells and the others are down to their last thermal clip. We've only got Jacob's biotics and my sword keeping us clear of Collectors."

"We've got a similar problem," Titus said. "I can bayonet the bastards as long as I like, and Cyralius and Jack have their skills, but we're not going to last too long if things keep up the way they are."

Malleus glanced up, seeing the ceiling of the great ship's cavernous centre rising towards them.

"We won't be long," he said. "I'll vox Kurias and get you a thunderhawk pickup."

"Alright, captain," Titus said. "Make it quick."

The platform reached the ceiling, and for a moment Malleus thought it was going to crush itself against the ceiling, before a panel within slid aside, a great hexagonal void opening. The panel rose up, engines powering down, before it slotted into place.

The room they were in was dark, but lighting overhead began to glow, lighting up the spacious, cavern-like room. A circular console stood in the centre of the room, and Kullas immediately headed towards it.

"Keep the Collectors clear of me," Kullas said. "I'll see what I can take from their systems, but we can't stay here for too long."

He moved to the console, already quietly clicking and chattering to the system in binaric, looking for a point of entry. Quickly, he found one, the microprocessors in his fingers connecting to the system and allowing him in.

"Anything difficult?" Malleus asked.

"Around eight thousand firewalls and some automated alarm systems," Kullas replied. "This is so easy it's almost insulting."

"Good," Malleus said. "Any contacts?"

"Nothing," Miranda replied, who had taken cover behind a large bone-like growth projecting from the floor. "I'm not sure they know we're here."

"Well, that makes our lives easier," Malleus replied. He clicked the vox-bead in his helmet on. "Kurias, it's Malleus here. I need you in here on the Thunderhawk; we need an extraction."

"Would do, captain, but 'in?' How am I supposed to get in?"

"You've blasted your way through this thing before," Malleus replied. "I'll point out an entry site and a blast from the turbolaser and a few hellstrike missiles should solve the problem."

"Good point," Kurias said. "I'm in the Normandy's hangar now; I'll fly out now."

"Glad to hear it," Malleus said. "Malleus out."

He cut the connection, and glanced over to Kullas.

"Kullas, how's the hack going?"

"…sorry, captain?"

"I said, how's the hack going?" Malleus repeated.

"Done," Kullas said. "I was just exploring the system, seeing if I could find a way to overload the engine."

"Find anything?"

"No. The ship appears to be controlled remotely; this console can only be used in an emergency shutdown of the engine," Kullas said. "I could probably create a program to overload it and upload it to the system, but I'm not sure that would work in the time we have."

"How long would you need?" Malleus asked.

"To make one with an acceptable risk factor, I would need at least five minutes," Kullas said. "I can create one within twenty seconds, but I can give no guarantee of whether or not we would escape in time, or, if we did, that we would escape the shockwave."

Malleus shook his head.

"Better not to risk it," he said. "Do you have all the information?"

"Uploaded to cortex wafers," Kullas said. "Much of it appears to be information on the ship and its dimensions, but give me a few moments and I can sift through the data and see what I can find."

"Alright," Malleus said. "See what you-"

The ship lurched, a great boom echoing up from its depths, and Malleus was momentarily staggered from the sudden change in direction.

"That would be Kurias," he murmured.

Another shock rocked the inside of the ship, and Malleus flicked the vox bead on.

"Kurias, what in the Emperor's name are you doing?" he roared. "You'll kill us all if you aren't careful."

"That wasn't me, captain," Kurias said.

"Captain, it's Gaius here. I think the ship's engines may have started."

"Gaius, where are you?" Malleus asked.

"An upper balcony," Gaius replied. "We can see the thunderhawk coming up now, but there's definitely what looks like engines starting up."

"Malleus, it's Joker here. You need to get the hell out off there right now. The ship's starting up; it's got one Normandy already and I'm not losing another to it."

"Lad's right," Kurias said. "I've got Titus' lot and Gaius and the others are just getting on board."

"Alright," Malleus said. "Kullas, you said the ship was controlled externally. Can you block it out?"

In reply, Kullas slammed his palm on the main control panel and chattered in binaric, before he turned to Malleus.

"I've thrown up a few dozen firewalls," he said, already hurrying to Tali's prone form and scooping her into his arms. "I've bought us some time before it can get weapons online, but not much."

"It's better than nothing," Malleus said, heading to the platform. "Come on."

Miranda had already called up a holographic control interface from the platform's console, and as soon as the forge-priest was aboard she slammed the activate button on the panel.

Almost as soon as they cleared the ceiling, Malleus saw the great maw of the Thunderhawk's ramp. Kullas made a running jump and crossed the gap, boots slamming onto the ceramite. He hurriedly strapped Tali into one of the harness chairs, jumping into place next to her and slamming the cross-bars of his own one close. Malleus followed moments later, turning to see what Miranda was doing.

For a moment, she hesitated, before she broke into a sprint, boots clanging on the floor of the platform. She reached the edge and jumped, and for a moment she hung in the air, arms reaching towards Malleus, before she began to fall.

At the speed of thought, the brother captain grabbed one of the pistons of the Thunderhawk's ramp for support, leant out and closed his gauntlet around her wrist, hauling her up before she could plummet into the void.

"Come on," he said, ushering her towards a combat harness. "This is going to be a rough ride."

He slammed into his own chair, and clicked the vox bead on. "Kurias, get us out of here."

"On it," Kurias replied from the cockpit, leaning the control sticks forward. The craft hung in midair for a moment, before it tipped downwards, and with a twist the gunship's plasma engines ignited, sending it screaming downwards. Ichor splattered onto the windows of the cockpit as it impacted a Collector, but the wipers swept aside the gore, and Kurias noticed the opening he had blasted looming up ahead.

He leant back on the controller stick, grimacing as he felt the tug of g forces against his body, before the craft banked and tore through the smoke blackened hole and into the space.

The hangar door of the Normandy was open, and tore towards it, flipping the VTOL engines at the last moment to stop himself from impacting the side of the ship at supersonic speed and probably destroying the entire thing.

"I'm in," he voxed. "Go, go!"

As soon as the Thunderhawk came to a halt within the hangar, he flipped engines downwards, slamming it into the floor with almost unnecessary force, activating the magnets within the landing gear to pin it down as he felt the Normandy turn.

"Warning," EDI announced. "I detect build-up of heat from within the Collector's cruiser."

"Not a problem," Joker said, within the Normandy's cockpit. Holographic displays hovered around him, and with deft movements he flipped and grabbed at them, turning them, realigning engine struts and powering the ship's Mass Effect drive; it wouldn't be powerful enough to launch them as far as a relay, but it would get them out of there. It began to pull away as the Collector's vessel began to turn ponderously, facing the Alliance ship.

Great batteries and power cores aligned within its depths, charging the immense beam that had, scant hours earlier, torn an entire patrol to pieces and, two years before, the original SSV Normandy as well. Targeting algorithms, scrambled by Kullas' electronic assault on them, began to work properly, falling into place as the ship turned to face its old foe.

Within moment, power reached a peak level; the weapon was ready to fire. Yet it was too slow.

The space around the Normandy seemed to ripple, before with a pulse that momentarily warped the stars around it, it reached lightspeed, and was away.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14-Illusive Man

Malleus stepped out of the lift and into the crew deck of the Normandy, rolling his shoulders gently to try and loosen them slightly. Still in his power armour, he glanced at his brothers who were waiting for him off to one side.

"I'll be brief," he said. "I know we've only just got back on ship and there are things we need to attend to, but I'm sure a quick debrief will do none of us any harm."

The marines, still slightly battered from their close call with the Collector's ship, nodded, Titus giving his still ichor-splattered bolter a slightly regretful look.

"No offence, brother captain," he said. "But if I leave this much longer it's going to rust."

"I'm sure it can wait a few minutes Titus," Malleus said. "I want to resolve the leadership issue, that's all. First of all, your thoughts on who you were paired up with."

"Mordin is good at combat support," Okeen said first. "And he's had military experience, but he's a medic, and importantly, he's a good one. We want somebody who can deal with a medical problem, and he can't do that if he's tied up trying to sort out whatever mess resulted in a medical problem."

"I see," Malleus said. "Gaius, what about Zaeed and Jacob."

"Jacob doesn't strike me as natural leader," Gaius replied. "He's a good soldier, but he doesn't seem to be naturally made for leadership. Zaeed, on the other hand, seems to have a lot of experience, and has led people before. I'd say that he would be best for it."

"Malleus, may I interrupt?" this was EDI. "The Illusive man wishes to speak to in the Normandy's debriefing room. It is about the leadership of the team."

"Alright," Malleus said. "The rest of you get to your duties."

Malleus clamped his fists together across his chest and bowed his head to his brothers, who mimicked the gesture, before stepping back into the lift.

"Take me up," Malleus ordered, before the doors closed and the lift began to rise gently. It stopped after a moment, with a quiet ring, and EDI announced; "Combat information centre."

Malleus stepped out, walking past the large holographic projection of the Normandy, through a few of the doors and the ship's armour, before entering the Normandy's briefing room. The glass-topped table that usually dominated the centre of the room had, for some reason, retracted into the floor. Malleus looked around the room for a few moment, unsure what to do, before EDI's holographic avatar, a large blue ball mounted on a cone, flickered into existence from a projector mounted on the wall.

"Please step into the centre of the room," the AI asked, a widening line panning across the sphere in time with its speech.

Malleus did so, and a strange grid of orange light rose up around him. For a moment, he glanced at it quizzically, before he realized it was another hologram. For such a short time into their history, these people really were good at projections, he thought, before the room changed.

Where the briefing room had been, it was suddenly darker and much, much larger, the only illumination a sun burning orange and blue in the frame of an immense window. What caught Malleus' attention, however, was the figure sitting in the chair in front of it.

No doubt the strong backlighting was an attempt to make whoever it was in the chair seem more intimidating and ominous, but Malleus' autosenses saw past that. It was a man, possibly in his sixties, graying hair combed back with the sort of care that only the extremely rich could afford. He was wearing a suit, most likely tailored, and smoke was trailing from a cigar held between slightly wrinkled fingers. Various holograms floated around him, though exactly what they displayed Malleus couldn't be sure. Yet what really caught the Astartes' attention was his eyes; his pupils seemed to glow blue, and a closer look showed that they weren't natural ones at all; they were interspersed with regular dark lines, like some sort of mechanical projection, and at each quarter a small stub of the same light extended a short distance.

"Ah, Malleus. I'm glad we finally get to meet face to face, so to speak," the man said.

"Yes, so to speak," Malleus said. "Interesting technology you have here. And yet it's strange I cannot meet you in person."

"This way is far easier, and more secure," the man said. "Anyway, that isn't why I wish to talk to you. First of all, let me introduce myself; I'm known as the Illusive Man. You may well have heard of me."

"You're in charge of Cerberus, yes," Malleus said. "I had gathered as much."

"I'm glad you know as much," the Illusive Man said. "And you have some idea as for what Cerberus stands for, I hope."

"You're trying to advance humanity's case in the galaxy," Malleus said. "And you generally work outside of the law. Quite ruthlessly, if I may say so."

"And you have a problem with this?"

"Not at all. In fact, Cerberus and the Astartes have a good deal in common, in that respect."

The Illusive Man smiled at this.

"I'm glad to hear that," he said. "I had hoped that I would have somebody willing to do what needs to be done to avoid extinction."

"Ah yes, these Reapers," Malleus said. "You wish to enlist my aid officially?"

"That's true," the Illusive Man replied. "You know of commander Shephard, yes?"

"A little," Malleus said. "Helped save humanity somehow, though I can't say I'm too clear on the details."

"Essentially, Shephard discovered about the Reapers," the Illusive Man said. "Two years ago, one of their number led a Geth fleet in an attack on the Citadel, the centre of the galaxy's government. Shephard led the defense, and fought them off, and quite importantly, managed to secure humanity a place in the Council."

"So why do Cerberus view it necessary to take steps against the Reapers?" Malleus asked. "Isn't that this council's duty to do so."

"According to the council, the Reapers don't exist," the Illusive Man replied. "They claim that Sovereign, the Reaper that led the attack on the Citadel, was simply a Geth dreadnought and the Geth have been pacified."

"I see," Malleus said. "So, now Cerberus seem to be the only ones willing to do anything about these Reapers, yes?"

"That's correct," the Illusive Man said. "We've managed to give the Collectors enough to worry about to stop them attacking human colonies, but we still need to get to them."

"And, let me guess, you either have no idea where they live or you do, but they are protected by something that cannot be overcome with conventional equipment," Malleus said.

"Essentially, yes," the Illusive Man said. "We know that the Collectors are beyond the Omega-4 Mass Effect relay. Unfortunately, every ship or probe that has ever gone through it, aside from the Collector's own ones, has never returned."

"So what do you intend to do about it?" Malleus said.

"Right now, we suspect that it may be some sort of identification system that the relay recognises," the Illusive Man replied. "I have several experts looking into various solutions as we speak, and EDI is already analysing the data your technician took from the Collector ship, but our other problem is what is on the other side,."

"You have no idea, do you?" Malleus said. "After all, if nothing has returned then there's no way to tell. So what are you doing about it?"

"First of all, I'm appointing you as leader of the team gathered so far and captain of the Normandy," the Illusive Man said. "And secondly, I aim to strengthen it some more."

"You're putting me in charge," Malleus said. "Are you entirely sure that's a good idea?"

"I don't see why not," The Illusive Man said. "I had a feed of everything you were doing on that Collector ship, and I must say your performance was nothing short of exemplary; you showed initiative, leadership and managed to turn what could have been a massacre into a successful extraction."

"That's not exactly what I meant," Malleus said. "I was more thinking of Shephard's team gathered so far; they seem to be unwilling to follow orders from somebody outside of their team. Cyralius managed to convince them of his plan, but I can't help but feel that they will resent somebody they barely know being put in charge."

"Then it's your job to convince them otherwise," the Illusive Man replied. "Right now, however, I have dossiers on some individuals who may be useful to you. I need you to get them on your side."

"Who are these people," Malleus asked.

"They can both be found on the planet Ilium," the Illusive Man said. "One is an Asari Justicar, part of an order dedicated to the upholding of justice; she should be fairly easy to convince. The other may prove to be a little more problematic. He's an assassin, a Drell, and will be difficult to track down. Provided he can be found and persuaded to join you, he will be a valuable asset to your team."

"I will see about finding them," Malleus said. "It seems I've little time to waste."

"I'm glad to hear you're willing to work with me," the Illusive Man said. "I'll contact you when I've more information."

"Ave Imperator," Malleus said, before saluting. The same orange mesh appeared around him, and began to slide down, revealing the inside of the briefing room once again.

So, he had to find and Asari and a Drell. Malleus grimaced internally; though he could be in no way sure, both names sounded like xenos ones, and there was something about that idea that left a bad taste in his mouth. Still, he could ruminate on that later; he had a command to get acquainted with.

The Brother-Captain entered left the briefing room and entered the Normandy's Combat Information Centre through the armoury, noticing as he went that Kullas had already got himself engrossed in some project in the corner. The CIC was quietly bustling with activity as the Normandy's various crew members worked around the large room.

"Captain, sir," one of the crew members, a young woman with short-cut auburn hair standing near the Normandy's main hologram, said as she saluted smartly. "I just heard of your, ah, promotion."

Malleus frowned, taken aback slightly, before nodding his head.

"I see," he said. "That was surprisingly fast."

"The Illusive Man just informed me," she replied. "I'm Yeoman Kelly Chambers, sir. I was Shephard's assistant, and I'm to be your adjutant."

"An adjutant? That would be useful," Malleus said. "A pleasure to meet you then, Miss Chambers."

"Thank you, sir," Kelly said.

"May I ask exactly what it is you do?" Malleus said. "If we're going to be working together I'd like to know your capabilities now."

"I can monitor messages sent to you, and I've a degree in psychology," Kelly replied. "I can keep a check on the crew's morale, and I can deal with any requisitions you may need."

"Requisitions?" Malleus asked. "What is there to requisition?"

"Weaponry, armour, upgrades for the Normandy, raw materials, anything like that," Kelly said. "Cerberus is well funded, and the Illusive Man has given us an unlimited budget for this mission."

"I see," Malleus said. "I'll be sure to bear that in mind. Anything else I need to know?" 

"Not that I can think of," Kelly said. "Actually, there is one thing. As you're commanding officer of the ship, you can have the captain's cabin on the top deck."

"Would that be the late Commander Shephard's cabin, then?" Malleus asked.

"Yes, it was his," Kelly said. "Is that a problem?"

"Just something vaguely, how could I put it, distasteful, about that," Malleus said. "His personal effects have been removed, haven't they?"

"They have," Kelly said. "You don't need to use it if you've got some objection to it."

"I can't say it's an objection," Malleus said. "I simply did not wish to dishonour a dead man."

Kelly gave him a slightly odd look, before nodding.

"Alright," she said. "Is there anything else I can do for you, captain?"

"Actually, there is one thing," Malleus said. "Call a general briefing; I wish to inform the crew of this change in developments."

"Yes sir," Kelly said. She flicked a few buttons on the console next to her, before announcing into it; "All crew members to the CIC. All crew members to the CIC, now."

A small crowd began to gather, and Malleus stepped up to the pedestal that allowed him a view of holographic projection that dominated the centre of the Normandy's Combat Information Centre. In a few minutes it had gathered, Malleus counting every member of the crew he knew, with the one exception of the wounded xenos, Tali and the ship's aging doctor, Doctor Chakwas who was presumably tending to the Quarian. His own brothers were at the back of the crowd, looming over proceedings with the same curiosity as the rest of the crew.

"I know some of you have duties to attend to," Malleus said. "So I shall be brief. I have just finished talking to the Illusive Man, who has, following the events on the Collector ship, made me captain of the Normandy and in charge of the ship."

There was a brief murmur from the crew, before Malleus raised his hand for silence.

"I know this may be a surprising turn of events for some of you," he said. "I will admit that I was somewhat taken aback by this myself when I first heard of this, and I know that some of you may not be happy with this decision; you do not know myself or my brothers that well, you may be suspicious of our means and our motivations, you might think that we simply are not suitable for this role and that you would do better. I cannot say whether or not you are right, but I promise you I shall do my utmost to guarantee our success in this mission."

He drew his hammer and slammed its head into the decking before him, the impact echoing through the room with an audible clang.

"In the name of Him on Terra, I swear that while I draw breath I shall dedicate my efforts to punishing the abominations calling themselves Collectors for their arrogance," Malleus said. "Too many have lost their lives to these monsters, and I ask you to stand with me on this day and aid me in this task. But one questions remains; will you honour me with your loyalty?"

For a moment, he surveyed the crowd, before Miranda stepped forward and announced; "I will."

Malleus couldn't help but feel a little surprised by that; he'd expected the most resistance to the Illusive Man's decision to come from her, seeing as he had effectively usurped her, but perhaps she had enough sense to look at the bigger picture.

"As long as there are foes to slay and blood to spill, you have my aid," the bulky Krogan calling itself Grunt said.

One by one, the crew announced their loyalty, before Malleus nodded.

"Very well," he said. "We chart a course for Ilium tomorrow; be prepared."

He nodded his head to the crew, before saying; "Ave Imperator. You are dismissed."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15-A Fresh Start

With a click, the bolt slid forwards, neatly slamming into place with the rest of the bolter's firing mechanism. Titus leveled it, pulled the trigger to test the safety, flicked it off and fired off the action with a click. He smiled, inspecting his weapon, now cleaned of Collector blood, its white casing no longer splattered with yellow xenos ichor.

It had taken a good four hours since Malleus' short speech to get his bolter back to its peak condition, even with the rather advanced bits of kit that he had borrowed from the Normandy's armoury, but finally all the Collector blood had been removed, his bayonet had been sharpened, the carbon deposits that were an inevitable result of firing the weapon had been cleared and the shells from his remaining magazine had been removed and cleaned before being slotted back within.

He had worked in the hangar, knowing that Kullas had commandeered the armoury for some project and how irritable the Forge-Priest could be if disturbed. His only other companionship was the intermittent appearance of Kurias, who was running a few checks on the Thunderhawk.

The hangar's doors slid aside with a hiss, and Titus looked up to see Grunt entering the large room.

"Hello," he said, slightly warily. "What do you want?"

"I have questions about you," the bulky xenos said. "I need information."

"Questions?" Titus said. For a moment, he considered dismissing the slightly reptillian xenos, but decided that he might as well let it ask. Cerberus trusted the thing, so chances were it wasn't a spy. It certainly didn't look like a spy, at least. "Alright, ask me then."

"What are you?" Grunt asked. "You are like humans, but you aren't human. What are you really?"

"Astartes," Titus said. "We were humans once, but we were changed, enhanced, to become better warriors."

"You used gene surgery?" Grunt asked.

"Of a sort," Titus said. "Mainly it was regular surgery; we've new organs added and our existing ones were enhanced."

"I see," Grunt said. "Yet you took these enhancements willingly, yes?"

"That's right," Titus said, slightly confused.

"What of your worth? You are enhanced beyond humans, you better them using means that some would say are dishonourable."

"Dishonourable?" Titus said. "Honour doesn't come into it. Believe me, you've no idea of some of the horrors I've faced; no ordinary human would be able to overcome them, and if it weren't for us Astartes I'm pretty sure that humanity would have been dragged into extinction long ago."

"But how is it decided who stays human and who becomes Astartes?" Grunt said. For some reason, Titus couldn't help but feel that this idea was upsetting Grunt.

"Usually it's done by trials," Titus said. "It's not just some random lottery, and not everybody can become Astartes. Not to mention the death rate through the training and surgery is a pretty high one."

"So becoming Astartes is a privilege then? One that must be earned, through trial and merit?"

"That's right, yes," Titus said.

"Then we're more different than I suspected," Grunt said.

"What does that mean?" Titus asked.

"I was not born naturally," Grunt said. "I was created in a tank, distilled from Krogan bloodlines and clan heritages. I was made to be stronger and better than other Krogan, but I did not choose to be. There were many others that came before me, many others who died due to failure in my creator's experiments. But I did not."

"Why not?" Titus asked. "Were you stronger?"

"No, not stronger, not on my own accord," Grunt said. "I was chosen to succeed and was given no say in the matter. The others failed, but at least they were allowed a legitimate attempt."

Personally, Titus couldn't really see what was wrong with that, but he guessed it was some part of the xenos' culture. He just hoped the damn thing would stop whining at him like some spoiled juvie.

"Anything else you want to ask?" he said.

"A small request, if I may," Grunt replied.

"What?"

"I wish to learn from you."

_Well that's an interesting request_, Titus thought. He didn't reply, only nodding to Grunt go on.

"The tank gave me memories, memories of Krogan warlords and leaders, of tactics and strategy and warfare and weapons," Grunt said. "I was designed to be a perfect Krogan, but it taught me nothing of being a true warrior."

"What do you mean by true warrior?" Titus asked.

"Like you," Grunt said. "I know many aspects of warfare, even if only a small part of that knowledge is my own, but I do not know everything. You, on the other hand, do. You can defeat a foe not just with you weapon, but with your bare hands. I can as well, but I am clumsy and crude."

"So you want me to teach you close combat drill?" Titus asked. "Well, you look pretty promising, I'll give you that."

'Pretty' promising was a lie; the flat, scaled top of Grunt's head, recessed as it was within his broad shoulders, was up to Titus' chin, and the Krogan was almost as brawny as the Astartes; the xenos' humped shoulders were very nearly at his eye level.

"Yes," Grunt said. "I want to learn."

"Alright," Titus said. He stepped back a few paces, placed his bolter out of the way and said; "Come and get me then."

Grunt didn't hesitate, simply lowering his head and charging. Titus stood his ground, and as Grunt reached him, placed one hand on Grunt's shoulder, the other on his stomach, grabbed and flipped the Krogan over his shoulder, the xenos slamming into the deckplate floor of the Normandy with a deep thud.

"You do need teaching, don't you?" Titus said as Grunt pulled himself to his feet. "Charging in like some mindless berserker? That'll get you nowhere."

"What would you have me do, then?" Grunt asked, brushing himself down.

"Use your head," Titus said. "Don't just charge in; be clever. You're strong and you've got weight, but anybody with half a brain can see you coming and move out of your way."

"I…I think I see what you mean," Grunt said.

"Good," Titus said. He stepped back a few paces and dropped into a wrestler's crouch. "Now let's try that again."

#

The Normandy's lower engineering deck was dark, lit only by a few overhead strip lights. Cyralius ducked his head low to avoid knocking it against the ceiling, his height still well above that of a normal man even out of his power armour. The area was a small one, and seemingly only used as spare storage space, and the Astartes couldn't help but feel a little out of place.

He stepped round a corner, and quietly called out; "Anyone there?"

"Oh, it's you, Cyril," Jack said. "What do you want?"

She was sequestered away from him, on a bench by one of the engine's larger feed-cables, an area lit deep red by some sort of energy glowing from the bulky tube.

"Just to talk, that's all," Cyralius said, keeping his distance.

"Oh, and what?" Jack asked. "Come to ogle the famous Subject Zero, huh? See how much you can prod Cerberus' pet freak before she snaps? Piss off, I don't have time for you."

"Not at all," Cyralius replied. "I simply wanted to talk about your biotic abilities."

"And maybe I don't," Jack said. "I'm powerful, alright. I'm better than anybody else. What else do you want to know?"

"You may be powerful, Jack," Cyralius said. "But better than anyone else? I don't think so."

"What?" Jack replied. She stood up and stalked towards him, snarling in quiet fury. "Get out of here. You think you're better than me, fine. Fuck you, 'cause I don't care. I'll kick your ass if you come down here and pester me again, you hear?"

"Alright then," Cyralius said. "Try me."

"What?" Jack asked. For a moment, she looked surprise, before her face set and a corona of energy formed around her arm. "Fine."

A wall of force tore towards Cyralius, who stood in its way quite calmly, before with a thought he grabbed it with a small burst of warp energy and crushed it into nothing. Jack tried again, throwing another wave of biotic assaults at him, but each one was intercepted calmly, the epistolary not moving.

"Enough," Cyralius said. "And this is your problem."

"What is," Jack asked. "I can't use your 'warp' bullshit, so what the hell can I do about it?"

"Be clever," Cyralius said. "Right now you're nothing more than an undisciplined berserker, as much of a hazard to yourself as you are to the enemy."

"I'm an angry person," Jack said. "So what?"

"Use that anger properly," Cyralius answered. "Right now you use it like a hammer, unsubtly, predictably, without any real skill. I can teach you to use it like a knife."

Jack said nothing, simply folding her arms and nodding for him to go on.

"I can teach you how to use those powers," Cyralius said. "You're the most powerful, but you aren't the best. But if you focus that power you can become the most dangerous biotic that ever lived."

"I like that idea," Jack said. There was a slightly dangerous smile on her face now, and she was nodding. "I like it a lot."

"I'm glad to hear it," Cyralius said. The epistolary stepped forwards into the room and clapped his hands together. "We'll begin immediately."

#

There was an old saying in the Imperium; Give a Salamander fire and hammer, and he will have a forge. Give a Salamander a forge, and he can make anything he wishes.

The Sons of Thunder may not have been the direct successors of Vulkan's legacy, but their gene seed was still identical to that of the sons of Prometheus, and they shared the same love their founders had of fine craftsmanship and intricate design. The Sons of Thunder may not have been as famous as the Salamanders for their skill with metallurgy, but they were just as accomplished.

Kullas had cleared one of the wall mounted tables of the Normandy's armoury, where weapons were usually stored, stacking the firearms away on other shelves before commandeering the various raw materials he would need and setting to work.

He lacked the forge he would usually have had on the Son's fortress monastery on Polyphemus or the one available on the Faith's Fury, but he had still managed to keep several of his tools he would usually have used when he fled the dying ship. And he still had his plasma cutter as well; that would serve him better than any smithy's fire.

The large pincers and flamer he usually kept on his servo harness for combat duty were laid aside, and much smaller, intricate tools were attached to the ends of the arms. Once his plasma cutter had heated to an adequate temperature, he began work on the bionic.

First of all, the outer shell was shaped. It was an elegant one; smooth and curved, made of an alloy of two metals Kullas had discovered called Iridium and Titanium. The alloy wasn't as strong as ceramite or adamantium, but it was a great deal lighter and had a pleasingly sooty colour to its shine. He had to admit, it was a great deal more elegant than the ones he usually made, smooth and curved instead of the usually more blocky, functional design he took; he suspected it was the fact that Tali only had two fingers and a thumb instead of the human number; it simply gave him more space to work with.

The shell was the simplest part of the process, simply heating the metal until was malleable and then shaping it as he wished, riveting on the various joints he needed until he had something that would serve as a perfectly functional, if unusual, glove.

Next came the more complex and intricate part of the process, the laying of the servos and circuitry.

First of all he added servo motors into the joints between the fingers, running a quick test on each of them to make sure that they worked properly. The next part was the circuitry that would go between them, and Kullas carefully placed the various wires and circuit-boarding needed into the hand with the skill of a master craftsman, the tiny pincers that now occupied the end of his servo-harness moving with delicate skill and precision while he murmured quiet prayers to the Omnissah. A tiny heat filament soldered each wire join to its place with near microscopic precision, until the hollow back of the hand was filled with all the necessary hardware. Except for one part.

What came next was the glowing blue core of the bionic. Kullas was still unsure of the Element Zero based 'mass effect' technology these people used as power generation; in his mind it was incredibly inefficient and somewhat crude, but the cold fusion technology he would normally use was clearly beyond these people.

The final components to go on were the neural interface plugs, the components that would allow Tali to use the bionic limb as if it were her own. Carefully, he wired them up, checking the positions in comparison to the diagrams he had taken of Quarian neural structure carefully, before finally soldering the metallic palm of the bionic into place.

The work had only taken him a few hours, but already he felt a craftsman's pride in the work he had done; it was elegant, would be stronger than any biological limb and was simply beautiful. There was something ironic about the fact that he had put such effort into creating something for a xenos, but Kullas still had something to prove, and he hoped that a bionic as elegant as this would help show the true expertise and skill of the Mechanicus.

Still cradling his creation, Kullas took the lift downwards into the crew deck, heading towards the Normandy's infirmary and into the clean white room. Tali was lying prone along one of the beds, a drip feed of antibiotics plugged in to reinforce her weak immune system, the damaged wrist carefully bandaged.

"Doctor Chakwas," he said. "I have the bionic ready."

The Normandy's doctor span in her seat at her desk when she heard him, getting up to take a closer look at the artificial limb.

"My word," the elderly doctor said, taking it as Kullas offered it to her. "It's as good as you said it would be."

"My thanks," Kullas said. "I must admit I am rather surprised as to how well it turned out myself."

"Let me see," Tali said, sitting up carefully from her place on the bench.

"Ah, Tali," Kullas said. "You are awake, I see."

"I'm beginning to wish I wasn't," Tali said. "Doctor Chakwas has me pumped full of drugs and painkillers, and even then I've still got…something in the back of my throat from whatever managed to get into my bloodstream on the Collector's ship. Not to mention I still keep trying to move my left hand and get nothing."

She shook her head, sighing quietly.

"Sorry," she said. "I shouldn't be complaining. I owe you my life, and I just want to say thank you."

"You're welcome," Kullas said. He took the bionic from Doctor Chakwas and handed it to the Quarian, who looked it over carefully. It was strange to think that if it weren't for her hands or double-jointed legs, Tali was all but indistinguishable from a human beneath the enviro suit she had to wear.

"It looks good," she said. "Very good. What did you use to make it?"

"A titanium-Iridium alloy," Kullas said. "Had I any adamantium, I would have used it, but I believe these two metals are both highly resistant to corrosion and rather strong in their own right."

"Adamantium?" Tali asked. "I've never heard of that. What is it?"

"One of the strongest metals in existence," Kullas said. "Rather dense, but I suspect that you've never heard of it due to the fact that you need plasma forges to achieve the correct temperatures to refine the ore; that technology seems to be at least several centuries ahead of your time."

"Perhaps we can talk about this later," Doctor Chakwas interjected. "I have a feeling that this new hand probably isn't going to attach itself."

"You are correct," Kullas said. "It's probably a good idea to begin the installation procedure before any thicker scar tissue begins to form. As it is, I believe that what is currently on the wrist needs to be removed."

Chakwas gave him a careful look.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked. "The risk of bleed-out is rather high, isn't it?"

"We need scar tissue to form around the bionic, or else it won't set properly and may require years of auxiliary surgery," Kullas said. "I've programmed it with attaching protocols, and I simply need to activate it once installed upon the wrist."

"I suppose that means you'll need to inject me with something else, doesn't it?" Tali asked.

"I'm afraid so," Chakwas said. She opened a draw on a surgical table and removed a sterile needle packet from within. "I'd say roll up your sleeve, but…"

"Yes," Tali replied. "Just inject me with whatever you need to."

Doctor Chakwas filled the needle with an orange-brown liquid from a dispenser mounted on the wall, before putting the plunger into place. Gently, she slid the need past Tali's suit and skin, before pressing down. For a moment, Tali remained upright, before gently reclining down with a quiet sigh.

"That'll put her under for an hour or so," Doctor Chakwas said. "You're the expert on these things, so you'll need to take the reins."

"I see," Kullas said. "First of all, we need to remove the burned tissue on the stump. After that, installation must be as quick as possible; I have the Neural Interface Units in the correct position, but I will require your assistance in holding the limb steady."

"Alright," Doctor Chakwas said. "I'll need the number four scalpel for that, which is…just here."

She picked the blade up from the small tray of surgical tools she had ready, leaning down by Tali's wrist and removing the bandage. The burn from Kullas' cauterisation that had turned a strange yellow-purple colour, and a few blisters were still present on it. When Kullas had first presented Tali to Chakwas for proper medical care, she had given his attempt at field surgery a disapproving glare, and there was a look of distaste as she regarded the wound on her face now.

"Alright," she said, leveling the blade next to the wound. "Here we go."

Swiftly, she made a few slices at the edges of the wound, deftly working around its perimeter, undermining the scar tissue's edge, before slicing down. Purple blood began to pump from it gently, and Chakwas hurriedly placed the bloodied instrument aside and took a hold on Tali's wrist, nodding to Kullas to proceed.

Kullas gently placed the bionic over the stump, making sure the NIUs were still in the correct place. Carefully he checked it, his bionic eyes swiftly flicking through several light spectrums before he was satisfied, and he pulsed the activation order into the bionic.

Tiny wires on the NIUs extended and grabbed the endings of the three major neural links between Tali's wrist and her hand, while hundreds of even smaller ones grew like metallic roots through her flesh until they found the assigned nerve endings and linked to them swiftly.

A larger spike extended from within the centre of the bionic, coring a small section of Tali's wrist bone before four tiny screws drilled through the bone, anchoring it in place. Finally, several dozen tiny hooks folded out from the rim of the bionic, latched onto the purple skin around and pulled it over, the flow of blood steadying to a much slower drip before it finally stopped.

Kullas couldn't help but smile as the metallic fingers gently curled in on themselves at some unconscious impulse of Tali's.

Installation complete.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16-Ilium

"Captain, I'm glad I could talk you," Miranda said, looking up from behind her desk when Malleus entered her office.

"Yeoman Chambers told me you wished to talk to me about a personal issue regarding Ilium," Malleus said. "As I'm captain, you're my responsibility."

"Glad to see you're taking your duties seriously, at least," Miranda said. There was a slight edge of a smile on her face, one of approval and, perhaps, trust.

"I swore an oath, did I not," Malleus said. "What did you wish to speak to me about?"

"It's to do with some family problems I have to resolve on the planet," Miranda said. "Normally I wouldn't pester you with something like this, but this is…important."

"If you want shore leave while we're there then that isn't a problem," Malleus said. "I was considering organising some for the crew anyway."

"It isn't quite shore leave I wanted, captain," Miranda said. "More to ask a favour of sorts."

"What is it, then?" Malleus asked.

"I should probably tell you a little about myself and my family before we go on," Miranda said, leaning back in her chair, tipping it slightly. "My family's a business family, and a big one; there's a lot of money involved in it, old money as well. We go back a long way, before humankind even discovered Mass Effect technology on Mars, before we even left Earth, and I suppose you could almost describe it as a dynasty; the CEO post has gone from parent to child since it was founded. My father's currently in charge, but he's got a problem."

"Let me guess," Malleus said. "He's aging and wants you to take the reins of the company, but you don't want to."

"Almost," Miranda said. "You see, I wasn't conceived naturally; my father had me made, gene modded to be a perfect human. My reflexes, my strength, my biotic talents, even my looks, all of those were tweaks off a version of his own genetic template. He wanted a successor who would be perfect for his business, who he could trust to continue it."

"But you fell out, I presume," Malleus replied.

"He wasn't a good father," Miranda said. "Not at all; he was demanding, he expected perfection and he wouldn't allow me a normal life, simply trying to make me into the perfect successor without letting me be who I was."

She sighed quietly.

"One day I decided enough was enough and I left," she said.

"And your father didn't want you to, I imagine" Malleus said.

"Not at all," Miranda said. "He didn't stop hunting me until I joined Cerberus. After that he realised he would bite off more than he could chew if he carried on after me and he left it. But that's not what's on Ilium that's concerning me; it's my sister, Oriana."

"He's after her then?" Malleus asked.

"That's right," Miranda said. "She's a clone, made when I was in my teens; when I left I took her with me. Cerberus has been providing her with protection, a normal life away from my father since I joined them, but he's managed to track her down. None of the family know about Cerberus keeping an eye on them, but they've arranged a reason for them to move. I just need to make sure that things go smoothly, that's all."

"I see," Malleus said. "I was most likely going to pursue the Justicar when we reached Ilium, but I am sure that Titus and Gaius will be willing to help you."

"Thank you," Miranda said. "This means a lot to me."

"It's no problem," Malleus said. He saluted her, announced 'Ave Imperator' and left.

#

"So," Malleus said. "This is Ilium."

From his position on the Normandy's starboard observation deck, Ilium's capital city, Nos Astra, stretched before him as the Normandy coasted towards it. It was a sleek city, a city of towering, smooth skyscrapers piercing upwards like some forest of metallic bamboo, metal and glass flanks gleaming in the evening sun. Below it a great lake of millpond still water stretched, blinding white sunset reflected upon its surface. Thousands of vehicles could be seen as vague dots darting between the spires of Nos Astra's buildings, weaving like flocks of birds around some great forest of shining trees.

"Very impressive," Kullas remarked from his place beside the captain. "I wonder if it's built directly onto the water or if it's on an island?"

"Makes me think of the sort of thing the Tau would make if they set out to build a hive city," Titus remarked. "You said this was a xenos world, yes?"

"Controlled by the Asari, that's what I'm told," Malleus said. "Doesn't look like anything any good human architect would make."

"And Asari are the blue ones, aren't they?" Titus asked.

"That's right," Cyralius said. "And Turians are the ones with the crests at the back of their heads, and Salarians have the large eyes. Now, I'm sure Malleus didn't summon us here simply to admire the view and discuss xenobiology, however." 

"You're right, Cyralius," Malleus said, turning his way from the window. "We've got three objectives here; find the assassin and the justicar, and also make sure Miranda's sister is transferred offworld safely."

The final objective got a quiet snort of derision from Gaius.

"Is there a problem, Gaius?" Malleus asked.

"Captain, do we really need to shepherd Miranda's sister around?" the champion said. "It's an offworld transfer, what could possibly go wrong?"

"A great deal of things, which is why you and Titus will be there to deal with the consequences if something does happens," Malleus said. "Unless you think you know better?"

"No captain," Gaius said, an edge of chastisement in his voice.

"Good," Malleus said. "Cyralius and I will go after the Justicar, while Hullen and Okeen try to find the assassin."

"Easily done," Hullen asked.

"What of myself?" Kullas asked. "And, for that matter, the rest of the crew? Some of them may be wanting to participate as well."

"Most of the crew are still a little shaken from our encounter with the Collector ship," Malleus replied. "I think letting them have a little shore leave while we deal with the more pressing business would be good for them."

"And what about me?" Kullas asked. "I'm perfectly capable in combat, am I not?"

"I need you to look into alternative weaponry," Malleus said. "Our ammo stocks are running low, and as we don't have a ready supply of adamantium we've no way to replace them."

"I thought you were already using alternatives," Kullas said. "Those light machine guns or Titus' shotgun instead of bolters, and sub-machineguns to replace your bolt pistols. Speaking of machine guns, may I ask why you have two of those, Hullen?"

"More firepower," Hullen replied.

"Wish I'd thought of that," Titus murmured. "I don't suppose there were a couple going spare?"

"Afraid not," Hullen said. "Only two available. Besides, you've got that shotgun."

"But what of me?" Kullas asked, steering the conversation back on course. "What exactly am I looking for?"

"Raw materials," Malleus said. "Components and weapon parts, that sort of thing. I'll give you a link to Cerberus accounts; you'll have plenty to spend."

"So I'm essentially a glorified requisitions officer?" Kullas asked. "Brother-Captain, I'm a fully trained acolyte of the Holy Mechanicus, I shouldn't be going _shopping_."

"You're a fully trained acolyte of the Mechanicus, exactly," Malleus said. "As I said, I don't want weapons, I want components to make weapons."

"Components to make…oh, I understand," Kullas said, smiling slightly. "That can be arranged. I'll go prepare my area in the armoury."

"I don't like that look on his face," Titus said as the door shut behind the Forge Priest. "There's something about it that worries me."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Malleus said. "If, perhaps, somewhat dangerous and spectacular."

"Captain, we're coming up to the docking bay," Joker announced over the Normandy's intercom.

"Alright Joker," Malleus replied. "We'll be by the airlock."

A small crowd had already gathered by the Normandy's airlock when they arrived, and Malleus and his fellow Astartes pushed to the front, their size and Malleus' rank meaning that any protests swiftly silenced themselves.

"Aaand, we're in," Joker announced. "Just need to line up the airlock properly and we're good to go."

"Glad to hear it, Joker," Malleus said, as the airlock's various seals slid and turned into the right alignment to let the door open behind it.

He stepped down what could only be a gangplank along the ship, made up of interlocking panels of shining white metal, and onto one of the larger, balcony-like platforms of Nos Astra's spaceport. Malleus surveyed the view of the city, amazed and yet at the same time feeling somewhat repelled by the alien smoothness of the entire thing. It felt unnatural, so far removed from any of the Imperial architecture that he was familiar with that some gut instinct told him to burn it to the ground. Then again, that may have been simply because he had been brought up in one of Polyphemus' tunnel cities; any urban area where he could see the sky had never quite felt right to him. But even then, the sheer alien wrongness of the place was almost overwhelming.

He shook his head, noting similar expressions of discomfort on the faces of his brothers and stepped along the balcony while the rest of the Normandy's crew piled out of the ship, chattering ebulliently as they relished the thought of finding the nearest bar and took a few moments to adjust to the change in gravity from the Normandy's shipboard generators to Ilium's weaker natural gravitic field.

A xenos, one of the strange blue ones that bore an unsettling resemblance to human women, approached them from the entrance to the rest of the port, followed by a pair of the abominable intelligence guardian platforms these people seemed so keen on.

"Hello, and welcome to Ilium," she announced as she got within reasonable distance, executing a small half bow and a smile. "I am Careena, and on behalf of Liara T'Soni I bid…you…"

She trailed off as she looked at the Astartes properly, a look of almost fearful surprise in her eyes, before she managed to overcome it and continue, fixing her welcoming smile back on her face.

"As I said, on behalf of Liara T'Soni, I wish to welcome you to Nos Astra, and am delighted to inform you that she has dealt with the administration and fees for docking your ship," the xenos continued, now sounding slightly subdued. "She wishes to speak to you."

"I see," Malleus said. "And where can I find this Liara?"

"She's in the port's administrative offices," the xenos said. "She says that she has information that you may find useful, though she did not tell me what it was."

"My thanks, then," Malleus said. "I shall speak to her swiftly." 

"Good, good," the xenos said. "I am afraid I cannot stay; I have things I must do."

The xenos executed another hasty half bow, before turning and hurrying away.

"I wonder if we're going to have that effect on a lot of people," Malleus murmured half to himself.

"We did in the Imperium, didn't we?" Cyralius said. "Imagine what it must be like for people who have never even heard of Astartes or seen them in propaganda vids before."

"True," Malleus said. "Alright then; Miranda, you said you had a contact to meet here, did you not?"

"That's right."

"Alright then," Malleus said. "Titus, Gaius, off you go. The rest of you, with me."

"And I take it I should go and find some weaponry components?" Kullas asked.

"Indeed," Malleus said. "We should get moving; you know where to go."

Most of the Normandy's crew had already dispersed, and the Forge Priest watched his brothers leave in various directions and couldn't help but feel slightly lost. Of course, he knew what his task was, but he had no real idea where to start. Besides, he wasn't particularly good with people; chances were he would probably be made to overpay and never even realise.

"I hear you're going bargain hunting," a voice said by his side, and Kullas glanced down to see Tali look back up at him.

"That's correct," Kullas said. "And I believe that you were supposed to be recovering."

"I'm fine," Tali replied, shrugging her shoulders. "Besides, you don't know much about technology here, do you?"

"And I presume you do?" Kullas asked.

"I'm a Quarian," Tali laughed. "What I don't know about tech you could fit on the back of your hand."

"Ah, that should be useful then," Kullas said. "Speaking of hands, how is the replacement."

"It feels…strange," Tali answered, holding up the prosthetic to examine it again. "Heavier, and I still can't get the co-ordination with it quite right."

"That should come in time," Kullas said. "I believe you would have found it quite comical to see me when my servo-harness was first installed."

"I can imagine," Tali said. "So what were you thinking you would get?"

"Components," Kullas said. "I imagine that vehicle weaponry would be more appropriate for my brothers considering their dimensions, and might just provide the sort of firepower to match bolters."

"Why not try Rosenkov Materials then?" Tali asked. "They're generally good at making larger scale weapons, and I think they have a kiosk here in Nos Astra."

"They do? Excellent," Kullas said. "Then we've no time to waste; let's see what they have on offer for us today."

#

Kurias' cane clattered against the smooth metal decking that made up Ilium's pavement as he limped alongside Joker, Jacob and Zaeed. His bionic leg whirring and clanking as he went, the former captain of the Faith's Fury couldn't help but feel like he was some grandfather escorting his grandson from the ship to whichever bar he had decided to take him to. On reflection he supposed that was fairly accurate, considering he was at least three times Joker's age. Nos Astra's spaceport was busy, dense with people, an exotic mixture of varied species; human outnumbered almost ten to one by xenos of various hue and cry.

They stopped at a building on the edge of the port, where a large red hologram announced it as "Eternity," while beneath it a smaller one said; "Open 25 hours a day, 540 days a year."

The bar was relatively quiet as they entered, a smattering of humans and xenos sitting at various edges, some sort of thumping dance music playing at a relatively inoffensive volume in the background. Kurias guessed this was probably a quiet time of the day, seeing as there was a currently empty dance floor taking a large chunk of the bar's floorspace.

Joker approached the establishment's counter, tucked away in a large alcove, before rapping his knuckles on the counter and calling; "Hey, Aethyta."

The woman behind the bar, one of those blue xenos, Asari, glanced over in his direction, before smiling and saying; "Joker, is that you? Goddess, I haven't seen you in months."

Joker smiled as he leant on the bar.

"I've been busy risking my ass again," he said. "Turns out there's another heroic lost cause that needs a pilot and I've been signed up."

"And I suppose that you're going to try and use that to try and guilt-trip some free drinks out of me, aren't you?" Aethyta asked.

"Worth a try," Joker said.

The Asari sighed quietly and shook her head.

"Fine," she said. "You get a free drink, because you're a friend. _One_ free drink, mind. And what about the old timer?"

"I'm sure that a glass of warm milk'll be good for him," Joker said. Zaeed snorted, behind him.

"Oh, very funny," Kurias grumbled. "Madam, I'll have something strong and malted, and don't bother listening to the boy here. Why, if I were in your shoes I'd be checking he was old enough to order."

"And a Guinness for me," Zaeed added.

Aethyta laughed at this, before saying; "Fine, three Guinesses then?"

"Four," Jacob said.

"Yeah, that'll be good," Joker said. As the barkeep busied herself with getting the drinks, he turned to Kurias; "Somebody's in a bad mood today." 

Kurias shook his head.

"A limp, some baldness and suddenly everybody treats you like some mumbling oldie who's going to go senile any second," he grumbled, but there was an edge of soft humour to it. "Don't matter that I've been commanding starships since before your father was just a glint in your granddad's eye, no."

"You've been spacing for a long time, then?" Aethyta asked, placing a pair of glasses on the table. "Just how old are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

"One hundred and three years," Kurias said, a hint of pride in his voice. "And seventy six of those as a captain."

"What do you fly, usually?" Aethyta said.

"I'm in the military, or was at least," Kurias said, a part truth, as he took a sip from his drink. "I'm stuck flying…lighter craft, at the moment."

"Oh, retired, were you?" Aethyta asked.

"I suppose you could say that," Kurias answered. "It's a long story."

He paused as somebody pushed past him, and glanced over at the transgressor.

"Excuse me usually works," he said chastisingly, but the person who pushed him, one of the xenos with the oddly avian set to their faces and the quills protruding from the back of its head, a Turian, simply sneered at the captain before turning to Aethyta, who had look of slightly worried exasperation on her face.

"Aethyta," the xenos, one of the ones called Turians, said. "I'm here on business."

"For Goddess' sake, this again?" Aethyta asked. "For the last time, I don't owe your boss, or anyone else for that matter, any money."

"Now we both know that isn't true," the Turian said, in the slick calm of one who was confident that things were going to go his way. "Parkat wants his money back. And he's been patient with you, because he knows business has been tough for everyone lately, but you're running out of time." 

"Give what money back?" Aethyta said. "Get out of here, Allus, or I'm setting John on you."

She nodded over to a bulky, thickset human in some sort of body armour standing in the corner. Sensing her signal, the man began to head towards the bar, fingers drumming calmly on the butt of a pistol at his belt.

Allus sighed, before saying; "I really didn't want to do this, but too late now." 

He reached into the jacket he was wearing and pulled out a pistol, pointing it straight at the shocked bartender.

"This is your last chance to pay up," Allus said in the carefully measured tones of someone determined not to raise his voice. "If you don't I will shoot. Don't try any biotic tricks, don't call your security guy any closer, just give me the money and I can leave, Parkat'll be happy and we can all forget this ever happened, alright?"

"Fine, Allus, you win," Aethytas said. She reached under the counter, tracked unwaveringly by the barrel of the Turian's weapon. Suddenly she stopped, and smiled grimly at the Turian.

"What are you doing?" Allus demanded. "Dammit, bluey, just give me the krachting money."

"Me?" Aethytas said innocuously. "I'm not doing anything. Look behind you."

Cautiously, the Turian glanced over his shoulder, to look down the deep black cylinder of a laspistol barrel. Carefully, the xenos looked upwards to see Kurias holding the weapon, a grim set to his already rather grizzled features.

"I'd stick up my hands and drop the gun if I were you," he said.

"Alright, alright," Allus said, raising his two taloned hands, pistol clattering to the floor. "Take it easy, grandpa."

Kurias' eyes narrowed at the final comment, and after a moment, he pulled the trigger.

The air crackled as the lasbeam ionised it, hitting Allus squarely in the forehead. For a moment, the Turian stood as he had been before his knees crumpled and he collapsed to the floor.

"What the hell did you shoot him for" Aethytus exclaimed, pacing away from Kurias in shock. "Are you insane? He'd just surrendered." 

"Don't worry," Kurias said, tucking the laspistol back into his jacket. "I dialed it down to the lowest setting; he'll wake up soon and he'll be fine, though he'll have a headache like no other."

John the bouncer crouched down next to the prone Turian, feeling beneath the tip of the xenos' chin for a pulse, before looking up and saying; "He's still alive. Should I call the police?" 

"Please do," Aethytus said. "And you might want to keep that pistol of yours out of sight for the moment; it's not illegal, but they aren't too keen on people carrying weapons without a full license about around here, and that looks more homemade than anything else I've seen."

"Sounds fair," Kurias said. "Now I don't suppose I've managed to earn myself another drink with that, have I?"


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17-Justicar

"I want to burn this place," Hullen growled in Gothic as the Astartes made their way through the streets of Nos Astra. "It sickens me."

"You're not alone in that," Okeen said, glancing around. "Too many xenos; it's unnatural."

The Astartes felt out of place here, a city where xenos of all breeds mingled together, outnumbering what few humans they saw by a massive margin. All of them could feel something within them tugging at the essence of their beings, the intense psychoconditioning that had been drilled into their subconscious almost forcing them to move, to attack. Fingers were unconsciously close to weapons, and Malleus could feel the consternation of his brothers. Not that it helped that a good deal of the street's occupants kept glancing at the Astartes furtively when they though it might escape notice, though Malleus noted with slight distaste that one had had the gall to take out what looked to be some sort of portable pict recorder.

"Keep a rein on yourselves, brothers," he said, partly advice, partly a warning. "We have a mission, and I do not intend to compromise it."

"Noted, sir," Hullen said.

"Good," Malleus said. "This should be the place, here."

They broke away from the main street, into a building that seemed to have no door barring its entrance. The room they entered seemed bare and featureless, simply the same brushed steel as before, until Malleus noticed a staircase leading upwards into another room. He climbed it, Hullen, Okeen and Cyralius in his wake, and at the top he stopped at desk, recessed into a wall alcove. Behind various holographic monitors, another of the blue skinned Asari-xenos. It looked up when Malleus approached, surprise registering on its face only for a moment, before it said; "You must be Miss T'Soni's visitors." 

"That's correct," Malleus said. "Where may we find her?"

"Just through the door behind you," the xenos said. "Please, go on through."

Malleus quietly nodded his thanks to her, before proceeding to the door, which slid upwards into the ceiling as he approached it. He entered what looked to be an office, and was about to ask for Liara T'Soni when he noted a meeting in progress.

It was between two individuals; one stood with her back to the Astartes, hands behind her back, and judging by the skin pigmentation and folded skin where the hair should have been, was yet anohter Asari. The other was a hologram of a rather harassed looking human in a suit, face a mixture of anger and concern.

"Have you faced an Asari commando unit before?" the xenos was asking in a disconcertingly calm, soft voice as Malleus and his brothers entered the room. "Few humans have."

She leant back slightly, a fleeting and vague smile on her face.

"I'll make it simple," she continued. "Either you pay me or I call in a few favours from some old friends of mine."

The man's blustering, furious reply was cut off before it was even begun by the press of a button, and the xenos turned to face the four Astartes standing in her office. There was an interested, assessing look on her face, one that seemed to be sizing them up.

"So," she said to Malleus. "You're Shepard's replacement, then."

"So it's been said," Malleus said. "Of course, it's interesting that you know such a thing; I thought Cerberus were supposed to be rather tight lipped."

"I'm an information broker," Liara replied. "Knowing things is what I do."

"And that would probably explain why you had me paid for as soon as I landed," Malleus said. "In that case, seeing as you're in the business of knowing things, what do you know about myself and my brothers?"

"Not much, I'm afraid," Liara said. "But looking at you, I'd say…gene tweaking, but something more advanced than I've ever seen before. That armour, as well, looks something ahead of our time, but you use weapons that are available commercially. I'd say that you aren't of this galaxy, that you arrived here somehow and have no way of getting back, and that you probably had your own weapons either lost or perhaps just no way to keep ammunition."

"Not bad," Malleus said. "Surprisingly close, given what you know."

"You need to be sharp if you want to last in this business."

"Of course. Another question, if I may, though; did you know Shepherd?"

"I was part of his team when he was trying to stop Saren Arterius," Liara said. "Before he was killed, he was good friend of mine."

"I cannot say that I had the privilege of meeting Shephard, but of what I'm told he was a great man," Malleus said. "I am sorry that you lost a friend. But you're willing to help us?"

"I know about the Reapers, and the dangers they pose," Liara said. "And while I've no idea what the Collectors are planning, I'm quite sure it doesn't have our best interests in mind."

"I'm glad to hear that," Malleus said. "As a matter of fact, I suppose an information broker is the sort of person I need; there are two people here I must find on Ilium. One is an Asari Justicar called Samara, the other an assassin, a Drell, by the name of Thane Krios."

"Samara registered with tracking officer Dara on Ilium here a few days ago," Liara said. "As for Thane's location; I'm not sure, but I know that he has contact named Seryna here on Nos Astra, who works in customs. She'd be your best chance of finding him, provided you can persuade her to help you."

"That should be manageable," Malleus said. "Time is, I'm afraid, of the essence, Miss T'Soni; I should probably leave."

He inclined his head slightly, out of politeness more than any measure of respect towards the xenos, and turned away.

Once out in the street, Malleus turned to the others.

"Hullen, Okeen, you know where to go, yes?" he asked.

"In a way," Okeen said. "We know to go to the customs office, but we've no idea where that is."

Malleus sighed, and shook his head.

"I should have taken a map," he muttered.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Cyralius said. He clicked his vox bead on and said into it; "EDI, we need a map of the spaceport. Can you upload one into my omni-tool?"

There was silence for a moment, before Cyralius said; "Thank you, EDI."

An orange hologram formed around Cyralius' hand and wrist, and the epistolary turned the circle that had appeared about his fist a few times and pressed a few barely visible buttons until a projection of a map appeared in the open air.

"Kullas is going to be really upset when he sees that," Hullen said.

"I did all the appropriate installation rituals when I added it into my armour," Cyralius said. "Besides, adding on modular hardware isn't breaking the Divine Template at all."

"You did see how he reacted when he heard about EDI, though?" Hullen asked.

"There's little he can do," Cyralius said. "Besides, we've other things we need to deal with. Hullen, Okeen, the customs office is over here, and this orange dot is where we are at the moment. Do you think you can get over there?"

"Easily enough," Okeen said.

"And what of the tracking officer we need to speak to, Dara?" Malleus asked. "Where can we find her?"

Cyralius nodded to a building over on the other side of the plaza they were on, the hologram above it saying; 'Immigration, tracking and trade declaration.'

"That would be the place," the epistolary said.

"Ah, that's useful," Malleus said. "Very well brothers, we shall meet later, back on the Normandy. Imperator Aegum." 

He slammed his fists together and bowed his head in salute, Hullen and Okeen mimicking the gesture before turning away from the two. Cyralius and Malleus cut across the plaza, the small crowd parting before them on its own accord, still drawing stares from the various peoples in it.

"I somehow doubt we're going to keep our presence a secret much longer," Cyralius said. "People will talk of this, and I worry about what they will say."

"You're right," Malleus said. "The worst case scenario, we will have to make our existence public knowledge; the Collectors already know of us, and so do the Reapers, I presume, so I can't really see any other who would try and undo us with such knowledge. Though I suppose there's no knowing who might emerge against us."

"Politicians, probably," Cyralius said. "Accusing us of being tools of the Alliance or something like that. We may need to tread carefully."

Malleus nodded and sighed quietly.

"Wouldn't it be nice if things were simple," he said as they reached the tracking office. The glass barrier that separated it from the rest of the elements was between him and an Asari who sat on the other side, who had been watching him with a slightly worried curiosity from across the plaza. She pressed a button on her desk, and part of the glass slid aside, seemingly into itself, allowing Malleus to look at the xenos properly.

"Greetings," Malleus said. "I'm look for tracking officer Dara. Might you be her?"

"That's me," the xenos said, a hint of concern hesitant concern in its voice. "What do you want?"

"I'm looking an Asari Justicar, name of Samara," Malleus said. "I'm told she registered with you."

"Why's that?" A look of consternation suddenly passed across the xenos' face, before it asked; "Goddess, has she killed somebody _already_?"

"Not as far as I know," Malleus said. "I was simply looking for her."

"Alright," Dara said with a quiet sigh. "That's a relief." 

"Why were you so worried about her killing somebody?" Cyralius quizzed. "You almost seem to be expecting it."

"It's complicated," Dara said, shaking her head. "Do you know much about Justicars?"

"A small amount," Cyralius said. "An Asari order of warriors, dedicated to upholding justice through any means necessary, highly elite. I thought they were allowed to legally kill criminals they encountered."

"Usually, yes," Dara said. "Most of the time they don't go out of Asari controlled space, though. We're worried that out here, she might kill a non-Asari and start some sort of incident."

"I see," Malleus said. "Where may we find her?"

"She's in the city's commercial port," Dara answered. "Near the local police station. She's investigating the murder of some Volus. You can get there using one of the rapid transit craft."

"Then that is what I shall do," Malleus said. "Thank you."

"No problem," the Asari said. "Just a word of advice; be polite when you see her. Justicars embody the entirety of Asari law, but they usually stay in Asari space; she won't be used to dealing with aliens. And for Goddess' sake, please make sure she doesn't kill anybody."

Malleus turned away, followed by Cyralius, and left to find a means of transport.

#

Once they had located one of the craft, a deep red vehicle, driven by hover engines and not dissimilar in shape to one of the land cars of the Imperium, the journey to the southern side of the Nos Astra was a short one, the powerful anti-gravity engines and computerised navigation systems taking them through the city's aerial traffic in little time. It landed on another large balcony of the type that seemed to make up the entirety of the city, and Malleus and Cyralius stepped out of the craft's hold to look around.

"The architects must have been rather pressed to stay with a single theme," Cyralius remarked. "Most of this city seems to look the same."

Malleus nodded, a slight smile on his face, before he noticed something up ahead. A squat xenos, almost made spherical by some sort of pressure suit or body armour and accompanied by a pair of Turian bodyguards, was heading towards what looked to be some sort of larger version of the transport craft that Malleus and Cyralius had just taken. Behind them, an Asari was hurrying to catch up, before their enhanced hearing caught the xenos shout; "Stop right there, Pitne For."

The squat xenos and its bodyguards turned and face the Asari, the xenos saying in a breathy voice, with an edge of a nasal, pleading whine; "Detective. I thought-" here it stopped talking, sentence interrupted with a click and a wheezing puff. "I had given you all the…information you needed."

"You're a witness, Pitne For," the Asari said. "You're fleeing the scene of a crime where your business partner was murdered, without my permission. That won't reflect well on any testimony, will it?"

"I know that but…I have a business deal on…Omega, and if I stay…those Eclipse mercs who killed him…will surely go after me," the xenos replied.

"Eclipse are only in the backalleys," the Asari said. "You stay out here in the open, with my officers keeping an eye on you, and you'll be fine."

"Fine, but what…about the Justicar?" Pitne For asked. "I am a suspect…if Eclipse doesn't kill me…then she might just. Everyone says she might go…crazy and start shooting any…minute."

"Justicars only go after criminals," the Asari replied, before adding with just a hint of threat; "So I'm sure you'll be fine. Now stay here. You have any questions or concerns, I'm in the station."

She turned and headed away into a large, glass-and-steel fronted building over on the other side of the balcony. From their position that was supposedly out of earshot, Malleus glanced over to Cyralius and said; "The fat xenos knows about the Justicar; I'd say it'd be the best place to start."

They headed towards the xenos and his bodyguards, who greeted the Astartes with an irritable, "Oh what now?" It paused as it saw the Astartes properly, and quietly murmured; "Oh."

"Not a particularly polite way to greet somebody who might be able to help you, Pitne For," Malleus said, a hint of a smile playing about his lips.

"Help me? Who are…you, then, Earth Clan?"

Earth Clan. Curious term for humans, but an accurate one, Malleus supposed.

"My name is Malleus Scandarum, and this my colleague Cyralius Lockheim," Malleus said, resisting the urge to crouch in order to make eye contact with the xenos that he towered nearly five feet above. "We're here to find the Justicar and my sources tell me that you're currently involved with a murder she is investigating, and that you also want to get off world quickly."

"Your sources are…good ones then, Earth Clan," the xenos said.

"That's why I picked them," Malleus said. "I'm told your business partner was murdered by Eclipse Mercenaries, is that correct?"

"You're right," the xenos said. "The Justicar as at the scene of the crime. But the detective sealed…it off, and if you want to get there…you'll need to speak to her."

"I see," Malleus said. "Thank you for your aid, Pitne For."

He turned and left the xenos, who was giving the two Astartes a slightly worried look. The Brother-Captain and Cyarlius ignored the scrutiny, instead heading towards the building which the detective had entered earlier. Once inside, the Astartes quickly glanced around before they spotted the Asari over on the right hand side of the main room of the building, typing something into a console.

The two approached the xenos' desk, Malleus noting that its skin was a far darker shade of blue, more an indigo, than that of other members of its species, before it looked up and said; "Nice guns; try not to use them in my district. What can I do for you?"

There was something about the bluntness of the statement that Malleus couldn't help but find somewhat endearing, and Malleus said; "I'm looking for a Justicar named Samara. I was told that you know where she is."

The Asari shook her head, before saying; "If you've got a score to settle with her, wait until you're out of my district; I've got more than enough trouble here as it is."

"I'm not here to pick a fight with her," Malleus said. "I'm hoping to recruit her for a mission I shall be attempting sometime soon. Once I've done so, I shall not trouble you with my presence."

"A mission?" the detective said. "Justicars usually work alone, but they are drawn to noble causes."

"Then that shouldn't be a problem," Cyralius remarked.

"Well, if you're getting her out of my district then I'll get you to her right away," the detective said. "She's at the crime scene at the moment."

"You seem rather keen on getting her out of here," Malleus remarked.

"My bosses want me to put her away," the detective said. "They're worried she's going to cause some sort of political incident, probably with that Volus if my suspicions are right. But the Justicar's code she follows won't allow that; if I try, she'll have to kill me. I'm not keen on dying, so if you can lure her away with some big, shiny noble cause before I have to try and arrest her then I'm happy to help you."

"How do I get there?" Malleus asked.

"The crime scene's around the corner," the detective answered. "Go outside, take a left. Look for the police line. I'll send word you're both allowed through."

"My thanks," Malleus said.

He left the station, taking the directions and, a short way away, stepping through the blue hologram of the police line, raising an eyebrow in mild surprise as it flashed red upon his ingress. A pair of Asari, both cradling assault rifles in their arms, nodded to them.

"Anaya sent us word that you should be allowed through," one of them said. "Good luck."

Malleus and Cyralius proceeded through the back alleys; less alleys in the traditional sense and more wide corridors, as if the area they were in was simply part of some colossal building. All was quiet, until the two reached another door marked off by that strange holographic tape.

"This must be it," Cyralius said.

Malleus stepped forward, and as the door slid open there was a scream. He started as a flailing Asari slammed into the wall next to him before crashing to the ground, while in a glass cubicle above him, another one in yellow armour had a pistol raised, pointed at an unseen foe. He thumbed the activation stud on his thunder hammer and held it ready, lighting crackling up and down the head of the immense weapon.

"Those were my best troops," the Asari said, a hint of fear and pleading in her voice. She was moving, circling and wary, unwilling to run yet unwilling to fight.

Another voice, a soft one, calm and serene, replied; "Tell me what I need to know, and I will be gone from here," and the Justicar stepped into view.

Malleus had little understanding of the concept of physical beauty; such things had been drilled out of his mind on initiation into the Astartes, but, should he hazard a guess, he would say that Samara would have been called beautiful by some, even if such people were deviants to say that a xenos could be beautiful. But it was that same, unerring similarity to human facial features that the xenos had, and Malleus had no doubt that if the creature before him were human it would be called beautiful. It was clad in deep crimson armour, stuff that seemed to offer some ablative cover over the entire body despite the way it was designed to fit her figure, and with a pair of tattoos or armour plating of the same colour just above her eyes. Even though there seemed to be something of a maternal softness to its face, as if her features had been dulled by age, there was something in there that Malleus couldn't deny that many people would find alluring.

"Where did you send her?" the Justicar asked in the same, calm tone, a corona of biotic force rippling around her body.

"You think I'll tell you?" the other xenos replied. "She'll hurt me in ways you can't even imagine."

"The name of the ship. Your life hangs on the answer, lieutenant."

The reply was a gunshot. The mass-driver propelled round rebounded off the biotic energy surrounding the Justicar, and the Asari in turned raised her hand. There was a yell, and a moment later the xenos she had been interrogating was sent flying through the glass of the cubicle. The Justicar stepped to the edge of the shattered glass, and the blue corona surrounding her flared, carrying her down towards the hapless xenos now sprawled on the floor. A foot was placed on her neck, and she began to choke, grabbing helplessly at the Justicar's ankle.

"I will ask again," the red armoured xenos said. "What is the name of the ship?"

"Got to hell."

"Find peace in the embrace of the goddess."

The ankle twisted and cartilage cracked, and the xenos stepped away from the limp corpse.

"My quarrel is with these Eclipse sisters," she said as she approached the two Astartes. "Yet I see two more criminals standing before me, but ones who do not wear the armour of Eclipse."

"Criminals?" Malleus asked. "What, pray, makes us criminal?"

"Your very physical form," the xenos said. "You have been modified genetically, to a degree beyond that allowed by law. Therefore, your existence is a crime."

For a moment, Malleus was silent, struggling control his temper. Part of him couldn't believe what he had just heard; a xenos, of all things, calling the perfection that the science of the Emperor had achieved, a _crime_.

"Do not speak of what you do not know," Malleus said, keeping his tone as moderated as far as possible. "The man who made my kin and myself is far from here, outside any Council jurisdiction. Insult the honour of the Astartes again and I will be forced to take measures."

For a moment, Malleus thought she was going to attack, before she gave him a slightly odd look and said; "Very well, Astartes. Perhaps it was wrong of me to introduce myself in such a manner. My name is Samara, a servant of the Justicar code."

"I am Malleus Scandarum," Malleus replied. "And I need your help with a critical mission. There's an awful lot at stake, and I need the best for this."

"Then I am honoured," Samara replied. "But I cannot join you. I'm currently in the middle of an investigation."

"So I am aware," Malleus said. "But I need your aid in destroying the Collectors."

"The Collectors? They are a worthy foe, and I would relish testing myself against them," Samara said. "But I'm in search of an incredibly dangerous fugitive. I had her cornered here, but the Eclipse sisterhood smuggled her off-world. I have to find the name of the ship she left on before the trail goes cold."

"I wish you'd just go with the, er, humans, Justicar," a third voice said. Malleus glanced over to see the detective entering the room behind them. "I don't want to, but I've been ordered to take you into custody."

"You risk a great deal, detective Anaya," Samara said. "And your adherence to such orders is admirable. Fortunately, I will not have to resist. The code permits me to cooperate with you for one day; after that I shall have to leave."

"I'll need more than a day," Anaya replied.

"I shall still be leaving," Samara said, leaving the threat of what that would entail unspoken.

"Supposing we found this ship for you, Samara," Malleus said. "Would you be able to let her go then, detective?"

"If you do, then I shall join you and the code will remain unbreached," Samara said.

"And if I don't get killed, I'm happy with it," Anaya said.

"I'm glad to hear that," Malleus said. "What leads do you have?"

"The Volus merchant, Pitne For, is involved with this," Samara said. "The mercenaries are preparing to move against him. Speak to him quickly; he might know a way into the Eclipse base."

"Well, I've got to get back to the station," Anaya said. "And I guess I need to take you with me."

"Then I shall go," Samara said. "My thanks, Malleus Scandarum."

They left, and Malleus turned to Cyralius.

"It looks like we've got some work to do," he said.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18-Criminal Elements

"Would you care to tell me, Pitne For, why these mercenaries are after you?" Malleus asked as he approached the alien.

Back on main balcony of Nos Astra's commercial port, the two Astartes had noticed the xenos standing by a pair of crates.

"Earth clan," the squat xenos said as it waddled to face them. "What are you talking about? I've no idea what these mercenaries…want with me."

"Really?" Malleus said. "I believe you're connected."

"I swear it…isn't true," Pitne For said. "I'm an honest merchant…nothing else."

"If there is one thing I've learnt about merchants, it's that they're rarely honest," Cyralius said. "We want the truth, now."

"Very well, very well," Pitne For said, raising a hand. "How can a mere merchant such as I…respond to threats of violence from giants like you…except by cooperating. I did some deals with…Eclipse, nothing more."

"Deals in what?" Malleus asked.

"A certain chemical," Pitne For said. "Minagen X3. It dramatically enhances…biotic abilities, but is quite…toxic."

"And I presume Eclipse didn't know that when you sold it to them," Cyralius said.

"I may have neglected to mention it…so I suppose they might be upset."

"So you know where these mercenaries are located then?" Malleus asked.

"That's right," Pitne For said. "They gave me a pass…card for their base when I was…dealing with them. I returned it, but I may have made…a copy."

Malleus held out his hand, and the merchant, noting the rather firm expression on his face, withdrew a blue plastic card from within the rotund suit he wore.

"That should get you in," he said. "Now please, leave a poor merchant be."

"Where's the entrance?" Malleus asked.

In reply, Pitne For gestured to a large bulkhead door not far away. 

"They thought they would hide under…Anaya's nose," Pitne For replied. "Just take the lift. It shall get you there, Earth Clan. Be warned, though, Eclipse are…dangerous, and the Sisterhood are their elite. Each sister has to commit a murder to…be initiated."

"That's nothing compared to some organisations I know," Malleus said.

Malleus turned and left, heading towards the lift with Cyralius in tow. As they entered it, Malleus pressing the only available button, pointing downwards, Cyralius asked; "Do you think we can trust him?"

"The merchant? Probably not," Malleus replied. "But we're dealing with his problem, so he should probably be reliable enough for this." 

"And if he does betray us?"

"Then I'll peel that laughable suit that he wears off and skin him alive," Malleus answered.

Cyralius snorted with quiet laughter at that.

"He's a xenos and a merchant," he remarked. "That's probably better than he deserves."

This time it was Malleus' turn to laugh, a deeper, more melodic one than his rather more reserved second in command had.

There was the sounding of a small bell being rung, and the elevator halted, doors sliding apart. The two Astartes stepped from its confines, weapons up, all mirth gone from their features as they entered combat.

An automated voice announced; "Initialising," and the two Astartes spun to see one of the abominable intelligence platforms that had accompanied the colonists of New London rising out of a crouched position. As one, they raised their weapons and fired, a hail of mass-accelerator driven rounds punching past the titanium alloy of its armour and shredding circuitry. It collapsed in a smoking pile, and Malleus looked at the weapon.

"Not bad," he said. "Nice and accurate, and I suppose fully automatic is rather good. I still miss the kick of my bolt pistol."

Cyralius nodded sagely.

"We never expected this to be an equal to a bolter though, did we?" he said.

"True," Malleus said, stepping through the door.

There was shout of; "What the?" before a hail of fire slammed into Malleus' armour. The captain raised his own weapon in return and advanced, squeezing off disciplined bursts into the small squad of armoured Asari before him. Behind him, Cyralius followed, a blast of warp energy smashing one of the xenos from her feet.

A shining blue bolt arched towards Malleus, but the epistolary grabbed it before it could impact with the force of his mind and sent it scattering away. He turned as Malleus thundered into the squad of xenos with his hammer drawn, and faced the direction it had come from, behind some crates stacked on what looked to be a jetty protruding into the open air. Another of the Asari xenos rose up from behind them, assault rifle dug into her shoulder, and Cyralius sent a wave of force into the crates before she could fire. There was a crunch as they impacted with the xenos, and she did not rise.

"Quickly, through here," Malleus said, hurrying towards the door, xenos blood boiling on the activated head of his thunder hammer. Cyralius followed, ætheric energy crackling around his fist, and as the door slid open for them they sped through, weapons raised, a sheet of warp-flame rippling away from them across the room.

Through it, a trio of automatons advanced mindlessly, pulling on the triggers of the pistols they held even as flames licked around their mechanical joints. Malleus charged forwards, vaulting over a stack of crates that stood in the way and smashed them to pieces with a single sweep of his weapon.

Yellow armoured Eclipse personnel hurried towards them, weapons spitting out fire as they tried to take cover. Blasts of warp energy shattered crates that they sought to hide behind, Cyralius at the eye of a maelstrom of power as he finally unleashed his full potential as a psyker. Lightning crackled from his eyes and incinerated a pair of xenos whose armour was covered with shifting holograms, before coalescing into a beam of solid light and melting away the cover of another two mercenaries.

One of them sent a bolt of biotic force towards him, yet Cyralius smashed it out of the air as Malleus reached them. The two xenos swiftly turned their attention upon him, but their attempts were futile, their rounds pinging off his armour before he smashed them away with a sweep of his thunder hammer.

"Emperor almighty," Malleus said. "I haven't seen you use your powers like this since, well, ever."

"I know," Cyralius said, flexing his fingers to crack the psy-frost that had formed around their joints. "The warp here's different, cleaner. I can use more power and it's much less risky. It's refreshing not to constantly have to filter out chaotic corruption when I use my powers, I'll say that."

"Just be careful about it," Malleus said. "Last thing I want is you falling victim to some daemon that caught you by surprise."

"Don't worry, I'm not that cocky, brother-captain," Cyarlius said. "Now, shall we continue?"

Thus they began their storming of Eclipse's hidden citadel. They worked in concert, like true veterans; Malleus storming ahead to pulverise the foe with his thunder hammer, Cyralius covering his advance and scattering biotic attacks with his psychic powers. Within minutes, they had torn through a good chunk the docking complex, the high, wide platforms with their small amount of cover making the Astartes and their power armour kings. Like a pair of gods, they strode through storms of firepower, weapons blazing with power, roaring in righteous wrath at the mercenaries that had the temerity to face them.

They came to a halt at a staircase, their supply of foes exhausted for the moment. They were about to head upwards, when Malleus suddenly raised a hand.

"Hold on a moment," he said. "Do you hear that?"

If it hadn't been for his enhanced hearing, Cyralius probably would have missed it, but as he listened for it he could hear what could only be a whispered prayer, coming through the door by the stairs, a desperate mantra of; "Goddess, don't let them hear me. If they hear me, don't let them kill me. Don't let them see me, don't let them kill me, please. Oh, what am I doing here?"

Malleus nodded to Cyralius, and the stepped through the door together, weapons ready, each covering the available angles in the room. It seemed empty, the only thing occupying it a desk with the barrel of a weapon poking from around its corner, but there was the sound of somebody breathing quietly, carefully, and Malleus had no doubt that if it weren't for his enhanced hearing he would never have suspected somebody to be there.

Malleus advanced slowly, boots clanking quietly against the metal floor, before there was movement and a figure stood. Lightning swift, Malleus turned to face it, an Asari wearing the same yellow armour that the other Eclipse mercenaries wore.

"Wait, stop!" the xenos cried. "Please, I didn't fire my weapon once. I only pretended to because the other Eclipse sisters were watching, but didn't really shoot!"

"You're attired in the same uniform as the rest of Eclipse," he said, keeping his weapon raised. "What am I supposed to think?"

"No, I'm not one of them," the xenos protested, almost shaking from fear. "I'm new! I thought being Elnora the mercenary would be cool, but I didn't know what this was really like! Please, I'm innocent!"

"There's no such thing as innocence," Malleus said. "Only varying degrees of guilt. You chose your side, xenos."

"What? No!"

She reached for her weapon, but Malleus pulled the trigger of his own first. The stream of rounds slammed into Elnora, jerking her left and right, before she collapsed.

"Suffer not the xenos to live," Malleus said quietly. They turned and left the room, leaving Elnora's corpse prone upon the floor.

They carried on through, slaughtering their way past the Eclipse guards, but something about the incident with Elnora had put a bad taste in Malleus' mouth. Perhaps, he had been too harsh, a small part of him thought; it was not in his nature to doubt, but part of him was wondering if he had been wrong. He supposed that duties as a judge and gaoler weren't part of the Emperor's original mandate for his creation of the Astartes, and that usually such considerations weren't part of a battle plan. Besides, it was only a xenos.

They had reached an empty room, when Cyralius suddenly called a halt.

"What is it?" Malleus asked.

"Over there," Cyralius said. "A cogitator console. We might be able to get some information about the layout of this place."

"Good point," Malleus said as Cyralius leaned down to get a closer look at the machine's holographic monitor. After a few moments, he asked; "Found anything?"

"Nothing about the base," Cyralius said. "But wait, what's this?"

He clicked on something, and a recording began to play.

"Well, it's official," a cheerful woman's voice announced. "Little baby Elnora is a fully fledged Eclipse merc! I earned my uniform last night when I killed that ridiculous little Volus."

There was a note of vicious relish to the voice, and Cyralius glanced over at Malleus with an eyebrow raised.

"Up close, explosive rounds," it continued. "Blew the little bastard's suit wide open."

There was a burst of laughter, with a nasty edge to it.

"I can't wait to see some real action! Next time I go home my friends are going to be _so_ jealous!"

"So, we found our killer," Cyralius said. "I thought so. No need to worry about getting the wrong person, Malleus."

Malleus started.

"How did you-"

"I'm a psyker, am I not?" Cyralius said, tapping his psychic hood and smiling softly. "Besides, I had a feeling she was just acting."

"Well, I'm glad justice has been served," Malleus said. "Anaya will want that information."

"True," Cyralius said. He called up his omni-tool and pressed a few buttons, before it beeped. "And it's uploaded. Come, we still need to find out about this ship."

They stepped through the next door, to be confronted by a pair of the walking machines. Without any signal, both Astartes targeted a separate machine and smashed them down with a quick succession of shots to the head.

They advanced outwards from the room, onto yet another jutting balcony. A few dozen metres away another platform led into another one of those bulkhead doors, the gap crossed by a wide bridge made of the same metal. The area was empty, and they crossed it carefully, all too aware of the drop of hundreds of metres into the cityscape of Nos Astra that threatened them. There was a whining, hissing noise they could hear as they crossed, but neither of them could place it; it seemed to come from all around, echoing off the walls of the buildings that surrounded them on three sides.

Malleus reached the opposite balcony first, and suddenly the whining increased in pitch. A dark hulled vehicle, some sort of hovercraft with bowed down wings that made it look like a hawk about to dive, rose up from beneath. A missile streaked from beneath its wing before Malleus could react and slammed into his cuirass. He stumbled, managing to turn away from it, and a hail of heavy fire tore from the machine guns mounted on the gunship's nose, slamming into his pauldrons and stitching a line of black craters along the adamantium. Still staggered, he dove into cover as more fire screamed towards him.

A wailing lance of bright white warp energy suddenly erupted form where Cyralius was standing, the epistolary throwing up a shield of power to stop the hail of rounds that was sent his way. The gunship managed to dodge the attack, but in retaliation crystals of ice formed above the epistolary's head. As a single entity, they sped towards the vehicle, fist sized chunks of ice whistling overhead as they spread out.

The gunship swerved out of the way of the majority of the ice, but there was a hail of clattering as several of the larger chunks smashed into it. The fire relented for a moment, and Malleus risked a glance upwards to see the gunship, smoke rising from its engines, retreating away from them, dropping backwards and downwards.

He rose carefully, still wary as Cyralius lowered the shields surrounding himself.

"Do you think it's gone?" Malleus asked.

"I'm not sure," Cyralius said, looking around carefully. "I'd be on my-"

He was interrupted by a piercing scream, and Malleus barely had time to yell a warning before a trio of missiles slammed into the bridge. Metal ruptured as the Astartes were slammed away, the gunship swooping overhead. The flight seemed poorly controlled, the pilot failing to account for the damaged engine and the tip of one of the wings clipped the tip of the bridge's railing as it sped past, drawing a shower of sparks.

"Cyralius, over here!" Malleus yelled, pulling himself to his feet. The metal beneath him was beginning to groan, and the epistolary clambered to his feet as his side of the bridge began to buckle. He sprinted towards Malleus as the bridge slowly collapsed beneath him, before leaping into the air. For a moment, Malleus thought he wasn't going to make it, before Cyralius halted in his flight in midair, a painful unlight of warp power surrounding him and letting him descend gently to Malleus' side.

They hurried away from the remaining half of the bridge before anything could happen, weapons drawn for the gunship.

"It's below us," Cyralius said, a white glow in his pupils indicating his sight wasn't quite within his body. "One of its engines is failing. I can disable it from here, I think. It would be a good idea to disable your helmet's audio inputs for a moment."

"Very well," Malleus said, mentally doing so through his black carapace. The sound around him seemed to dull, his breath within his helm the only thing he could hear. For a moment, that was all, until a whine reached his ears, painful in its pitch and intensity. He gritted his teeth, grimacing, before it cut out and Cyralius nodded to him.

He activated the audio just in time to hear the boom of the gunship exploding.

"What was that?" he asked.

"The right pitch to shatter the gunship's windscreen," Cyralius said. "I have a feeling a shower of exploding glass would be enough to distract any pilot."

Malleus shook his head to try and clear the dull ache that had formed, before saying; "I'm just glad it worked. That was setting my teeth on edge."

"My apologies, captain," Cyralius said.

"Think nothing of it," Malleus said. "It got the job done."

They approached the door at the end of the balcony, and paused for a moment when it refused to open. Cyralius activated his omni-tool, tapping a few buttons, before he said; "It appears this is blocked by some sort of password. I don't think I can crack it."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Malleus said, hefting his thunder hammer. A swift underarm swing had the weapon slam into the door, which was smashed away into the opposite wall, impacting it with an audible clang. Malleus stepped through the newly made portal, into some sort of some sort of crate filled storage room, sparks jumping from its ruined motors, followed by the epistolary. "The simplest solution is usually the most effective, don't you think?"

Cyralius smiled at this comment, before noticing a datapad on a nearby stack of crates.

"Look at this," he said, picking it up and scanning over it quickly. "It's a shipping manifest for Pitne For; he sold Eclipse two thousand units of Minagen X3 and also five hundred units of Red Sand."

"Red Sand?" Malleus asked.

"Some sort of drug," Cyralius said. "This might not tie into the murder, but it proves Pitne For is a criminal. Detective Anaya might want to see this."

"You're right," Malleus said. "But we need to move; the quicker we have the name of that ship, the quicker we can get back before Samara does something dangerous."

"Agreed," Cyralius said. The two of them stepped away, heading though the next door, only to be stopped by a call of; "Halt, mortals."

The two Astartes did so, out of surprise more than anything, seeing one of the squat, suited xenos standing at the other end, arms raised in threat.

"I am a biotic god," the xenos proclaimed in the same breathy tone as Pitne For, most likely a by product of the suit it wore, a corona of azure energy forming around its arms. "I think things and they happen! Fear me, lesser mortals, for I am biotics…made flesh!"

Malleus bit back the urge to laugh at the pathetic creature, so delusional was it that it thought itself capable of threatening Astartes.

"Don't make me laugh, xenos," Malleus said, shaking his head.

"How dare you?" the creature exclaimed. It staggered towards on unsteady legs, fist raised. "I am a great wind that will sweep all before me like a, a…" Here, it paused, searching uncertainly for the right words. "Like a great biotic wind! Yes, the Asari injecting so many drugs into me was…terrifying, at first, but then I began to smell my greatness! They may laugh when I fall over, but they don't know what…I do; that I am amazingly powerful. Fear me, mortals!"

This last remark was addressed to Cyralius, who raised an eyebrow at Malleus.

"Are you with Pitne For?" he asked.

"Once, when I was mortal, I worked for Pitne For. The poor soul is probably terrified that I haven't returned."

"I don't think he mentioned your name," Malleus said. "I think he doesn't want his departure delayed."

"I suspect he cares more about his money than his people," Cyralius remarked.

"He did not?" the xenos said. It raised an arm unsteadily, tottering towards Malleus. "Then I shall wreak just vengeance upon him and his clan. But first, Wasea, the leader of these mercenaries is in…the next room. I shall tear her apart and feast upon her biotic rich blood, and ascend to godhood!"

"Wasea will be the one tearing _you_ apart," Cyralius said. "I advise you rest. You should feel better."

"Pah!" the xenos said, turning towards the corridor where Malleus and Cyralius had not yet gone. "I am unstoppable, a god in Volus form!"

Malleus thought for a moment, and the gently pushed the Volus' back. There was hardly any resistance before it fell forwards onto its spherical belly with a quiet whimper.

"But, great wind," the xenos said as he staggered to his feet. "Biotic godhood. I'm…I…what was I doing?"

It began to stagger away from the two Astartes, along the way they had come.

"I'm…tired," he said. "I'll…I'll rest. Take a nap. Destroy universe later."

He staggered away, until he was around the corner, when Cyralius said; "That was surprisingly merciful of you, Brother-Captain."

Malleus shook his head.

"That was just pitiful," he said. "Xenos or not, he shouldn't just be thrown in there; he deserves to die with more honour than that."

Cyralius quietly nodded, before saying; "Shall we proceed. Judging by what that Volus was saying, I think we might be near our goal."

"You're right; if anybody has information on that, it should be their commander," Malleus said, stepping towards the door and motioning for Cyralius to follow.

They stepped through it into another large chamber. Large crates occupied it, as well as what looked like a half-repaired gunship and several weaponry racks. At its centre was a desk, a holo-monitor glowing. Behind that was an Asari, the xenos' blue skin marked by an intricate design of pinkish red; whether it was paint or skin pigmentation, Malleus didn't know.

"You know," the xenos, presumably Wasea, said in a surprisingly conversational manner, looking over a datapad. "Everything here's gone to hell since we smuggled that filthy creature off world. First a justicar shows up and starts killing my people, and now you do. I've got reports of more of you freaks over in the docking bays, slaughtering even more of my people, and I've got the CEO herself yelling in my ear that unless I kill you, Eclipse'll probably fold and we'll go bankrupt."

She placed the datapad down on the desk, and glared at the two Astartes.

"At least I can take some pleasure in pulping your heads," she said, a cloud of biotic energy coalescing around her arms. "That would improve my day no end."

She grabbed a red canister with a grip of biotic power, sending it floating upwards and then speeding towards the two Astartes, only to have Cyralius knock it away with warp energy, where it exploded in a red mist against a nearby wall.

Malleus was already moving, ducking out of eyeline before she could focus any biotic attacks on him, but a trio of azure bolts were arcing towards him. Cyralius knocked them off course, and Wasea turned her attentions to him instead. What looked to be a miniature black hole formed near him, the floor rupturing upwards towards it like a bursting metallic pustule. Cyralius ignored the force that was slowly dragging him towards it, instead focusing on his own psychic field; a screaming hail of warp energy was sent towards Wasea, who tried to absorb it. That failed as she realised it wasn't dark energy and hurriedly she knocked them aside before they could impact. Distracted as he was by the biotic whose powers seemed equal to his own warpcraft skills, Cyralius noted Malleus engaging figures on the edge of his vision before he went back into focus.

She abandoned the black hole and instead focussed all her energy into a single, dark blue beam. Cyralius countered with his own one that flickered madly through hundreds of hues in the space of a heartbeat, dark energy and ætheric power smashing into each other. For a moment, the two were held at a stalemate, each beam pushing against their summoner's own bodies that had them physically straining to stand, before Cyralius' began to push forward relentlessly.

Wasea suddenly dropped her own beam, and dived out of the way of Cyralius', who stumbled forward with the sudden change in conditions. With a thought, Wasea sent another canister hurtling towards him from nowhere and crushed it just as it reached him, sending an explosion of red mist bursting into Cyralius' face.

His psychic hood preventing him from wearing a helm, Cyralius gasped in a lungful of Minagen X3 before he could help it, the highly toxic biotic-enhancement drug entering his body. Various biological failsafes went into action, his multilung and oolitic kidney working to remove the toxin from his body. Cyralius gasped and staggered, choking in the thick stuff, unaware of the subtle changes the chemical was making to the ribonucleic structure of his genes within the very heart of cells.

Realising that his brother was in danger, Malleus broke off from the firefight he was having with a group of Eclipse mercenaries, rushing towards the hapless epistolary as Wasea prepared to strike again.

He grabbed Cyralius moments before three bolts of biotic force slammed into the psyker's position, a tackle that knocked them out of harm's way. Shoving Cyralius, still coughing heavily, into cover, he sprang out moments later, weapon pointed towards Wasea.

"Come on, xenos whore!" he roared. "No tricks, no games! Face me like a true warrior if you dare, coward!"

A missile of biotic energy screamed towards him, and Malleus dove out of its way only a moment too late, the attack clipping his shoulder and spinning him around. He recovered even as he fell and rose on one knee, weapon raised and finger already squeezing the trigger.

Wasea dodged out of the way, yelling at her subordinates to push forwards even as Malleus rose. He noticed Cyralius had stopped coughing, and the epistolary stood, a look of wrathful determination on his face.

"She's mine," he said to the brother-captain as he hurried from cover.

"If you're sure."

"I am."

A shockwave of psychic energy sped towards Wasea's position before she could marshal her own biotic abilities. The mercenary dodged the attack, and was about to retaliate before Cyralius stepped forwards, and was gone.

There was a boom of air being displaced, and Wasea stumbled as Cyralius appeared next to her, tendrils of warp energy still drifting from his form. With one hand, he grabbed the mercenary captain's throat, squeezing firmly at her neck.

"What…what are you?" Wasea choked, grasping at his wrist.

"Me?" Cyralius said. "I could say a lot of things. I could say Astartes, I could say angel, I could say superhuman. But no. I suspect the answer you are looking for is different. What am I?" He squeezed again. "I. Am. Psyker."

A swift upward flick from his thumb snapped Wasea's neck, and the xenos captain collapsed in a limp heap on the floor.

The last of the Eclipse mercenaries realised they were beaten, and began to flee, snapping off a few bursts of fire to try and cover their retreat. Malleus made to go after them, but Cyralius shook his head.

"Let Anaya deal with them," he said, picking up the datapad on Wasea's desk. "I've found our ship."

#

Fortunately, there was another door out of the room in which they had fought Wasea, meaning the two Astartes could bypass the hazard of the destroyed bridge, and within an hour they had found their way back to the station. Pitne For was waiting by the entrance, and as he noticed them he waddled towards them.

"Earth clan," he said. "You're alive. That must mean you beat Eclipse."

"That's correct," Malleus said.

"Then thank you, Earth clan," Pitne For said. "It will take them months to rebuild their organisation here. But, merely out of curiosity, while you were there, did you perhaps…run across a shipping manifest that belongs to me?"

"Well," Malleus said. "You never know when something like might come in useful."

"If you change you mind, Earth clan," Pitne For said. "I recommend you return that manifest. It might be very profitable for you. Anaya will just give you a pat on the back for it."

"I'll keep hold of it for now," Malleus said.

"What?" Pitne For said. "Earth clan, please, I beg you to reconsider."

"Pitne For," Malleus said. "One of your people is wandering the streets of Nos Astra right now, confused and injected full of narcotics after being kidnapped by Eclipse sisters, and you did not have the decency to report this. I will grant no favours to someone as honourless as you, profit or no profit."

He ignored Pitne For's pleas and protests and stepped into the station. Anaya was at her desk, as was, surprisingly, Samara, sitting quite calmly nearby.

"Samara," he called. "I have the name of that ship. Your fugitive left for Omega on the AML Demeter two days ago."

"You impress me," Samara said, a look of mild surprise and admiration in her eyes. "You've fulfilled your part of the bargain, and so I shall fulfil mine."

She stepped down from her perch, and said to Anaya with a slight incline of her head; "I am ready to leave immediately, if that will satisfy your superiors."

"You're free to go, Justicar," Anaya replied. "It's been an honour to have you in my station. And it's nice you didn't kill me, either."

"My ship, the Normandy, is docked near the main trading floor," Malleus said. _His_ ship. He still hadn't quite realised what a burden that was until now. "I'll see you aboard it."

"Before you go, I must be sworn to your service, so that I am never forced to choose between your orders and the code," Samara replied.

Her eyes opened wide for a moment, and there was deep, quiet pulse of noise before she close them and sank to one knee, head lowered. Beside her, Anaya rose from her desk, stepping away to stand next to Malleus.

"By the code, I will serve you, Malleus Scandarum," she said. "Your choices are my choices, your morals are my morals. Your wishes are my code."

Biotic power pulsed and rippled around her, and Malleus realised that this was something important, something almost sacred that he was witnessing, not dissimilar to the swearing of Oaths of Moment that he had made hundreds of times himself. Xenos though Samara was, the importance of this was not lost on the Brother-Captain.

Samara stood, the glow in her eyes winking out.

"I never thought I'd see a Justicar swear an oath like that," Anaya murmured, more to herself than anybody else.

"I am a little surprised," Malleus said. "Supposing that I break your code?"

"Then when I am released from this oath, I will kill you."

"I see," Malleus said. "Hopefully, it will not come to that."

"Shall we leave for your ship?"

"Not just yet," Malleus said. "I need to speak with Anaya."

"What about?" the detective asked.

"I have proof as to who killed Pitne For's business partner," Malleus said, producing the datapad from its mag-clamped position on his belt. Anaya took the datapad, and looked it over, before saying; "Interesting, but I can't verify it. It would be inadmissible."

"I vouch for Malleus, and any evidence he brings forward," Samara said.

"A Justicar's word is the final say in a court of law," Anaya said. "This should be enough. Never heard of this Elnora, though that's probably not surprising seeing as she was just starting her career. Good thing you cut it short. Anything else?"

"Proof that Pitne For was smuggling in red sand and illegal biotic enhancers," Malleus replied. He passed over the manifest, which Anaya took another look over

"That's definitely more solid," she said. "Has his signature and everything. I'll have him brought in for questioning. I can't offer much, but we've got a small bounty for information like this."

She held a sheaf of credits towards Malleus, but he shook his head; Cerberus had given him enough money to buy a planet by the looks of things, and he didn't need any more; not to mention such a thing would most likely endear him to Samara.

"To simply help is enough," Malleus replied. "Money is of no object."

He gestured to Samara.

"Come, Justicar," he said. "I suppose you'll be wanting to meet the rest of my team."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19-Assassin

"Greetings ma'am," Hullen said to the surprised and now slightly frightened looking Asari behind the customs desk. "I'm looking for somebody named Seryna and I'm told that she works here. Where might I find her?"

"Seryna?" the blue skinned xenos said. "That…that's me? What do you want?"

"We were hoping to talk to you in private," Okeen said. "About somebody you know."

Seryna looked nervous for a moment, refusing to move from her position, before Hullen shook his head. There was a hiss, and he removed his helm, his short-cut ginger hair springing upwards as they were freed from its restraint.

"Relax," he said, smiling warmly. "We don't mean any harm."

"Alright," Seryna said. "Who do you want to find?"

"Thane Krios," Hullen said. "We're told you know him."

She glanced over to an Asari sitting a few feet away from her at another desk and said; "Mayna, cover for me." She got up from her desk, and stepped along a jetty by the desk with some sort of dark blue hover vehicle moored to it. She stopped at its end, Ilium's shining horizon stretching away behind her, and turned to Hullen and Okeen.

"Why are you trying to find Thane, then?" she asked.

"We need his help with some work we're doing," Okeen said. "He's got the sort of skills we want."

"Right," Seryna said. She turned, and pointed out into the rest of Nos Astra. "You see those two towers there? Those are the Dantius Towers."

One of the buildings was a tall one, even by the standards of Ilium, spearing upwards and dwarfing the twin connected to it by an umbilical cord of a small bridge. Scaffolding clung to this one like mussels on some great rock, and what looked to construction machine were gripping onto its flank, crane arms shifting building materials up and down its height.

"They're owned by Nassana Dantius," Seryna continued. "I used to work as head of security for her, until I discovered she had been killing business rivals. When I confronted her about it, she fired me. She's got more paranoid, since then; the place is crawling with Eclipse mercs, and she's shut herself up in the penthouse on Tower One and hasn't budged for nearly a week."

"You hired Thane, then?" Hullen asked.

"Me? No way," Seryna said. "I don't anywhere near enough creds. I don't know who hired him."

"You're certain he's there," Okeen said.

"Certain," Seryna replied. "If he's smart, which he is, he'll go in through the unfinished tower from the bottom up. I can get you there, but it's crawling with eclipse mercs."

"Why not just head straight to the penthouse straight from the air?" Hullen asked.

"That's not a good idea," Seryna said. "They've got an anti-air emplacement on the roof; they'll knock us out of the sky before we can get close."

"What about the Thunderhawk?" Okeen said to Hullen.

"Possibly," Hullen said, before checking the chronometer in his helmet. "But we've been here nearly half an hour now. Chances are Kurias is already drunk, and even if he isn't I have a feeling taking a heavily armed gunship through a civilian zone would probably make the sort of impression Malleus doesn't want Besides, it's guarded by mercenaries. We're Astartes. It's no contest."

He turned back to Seryna.

"When's Krios moving on the tower?" he asked.

"Tonight, once it's dark and the shift workers have cleared out of tower two," Seryna said. "If you want to find him, you should go then. I'll take you; I know the way in."

"Sounds fine to me," Hullen said. "Now we just need to wait."

#

The hover-cruiser was just like one of the many hundreds of thousands that swept constantly across the skies of Nos Astra, and no notice was paid to the vehicle as it climbed into one of the skylanes of traffic and accelerated to a speed approaching a hundred miles an hour. An advanced VI integrated it into the traffic flow smoothly, co-ordinating with the various other vehicles around as they shifted position while maintaining their speed.

Within the vehicle's cockpit, cramped by the dimensions of the two Astartes, Seryna tapped a few orders into the holographic control panel, before leaving the task and saying; "The towers are heavily guarded, and you'll find more resistance the closer you get to the penthouse."

"Noted," Hullen said. "We can deal with it."

"Confident, aren't you?" Seryna said.

"Not confident," Okeen answered. "Certain."

"So, this assassin," Seryna said, changing the subject. "You planning to stop him?"

"We're here to make sure he stays alive," Hullen said.

Seryna shrugged at this, before glancing out of the cockpit.

"There they are," she said. "The Dantius Towers. Her mercs will fight you every step of the way, but it's your best chance to get to him."

"Imperator volunt, we won't need to go that far," Okeen said, getting an odd look from Seryna at the jump between Gothic and English mid-sentence.

"Maybe," Seryna said. "At least you'll know where he's headed."

"Let's head down there," Hullen said.

"Alright, hold on," Seryna said. The craft banked, curving out of the stream of traffic and banking round in a long arc to the base of the skyscraper. It dropped over a wall of some sort, before coming to a halt outside a plaza; upwards stretched Tower Two, with the hologram 'Dantius Towers' displayed on a base by its side. The craft's doors slid upwards and Hullen and Okeen stepped out,

"Don't stay too long," Seryna said. "They'll be out to greet you soon enough."

"Then let's get the jump on them," Hullen said. "Thank you for your help, Seryna."

"Good luck, you two," the Asari said.

The doors of the vehicle shut themselves, and it slid back up into the sky. Hullen unclamped one of the machine guns held to his thigh, the weapon's barrel sliding to its full length, while Okeen drew his own submachine gun, the much more compact weapon beeping as it became ready.

The two advanced towards the glass fronting that separated the building from the rest of the city, before Okeen suddenly called; "Movement."

Both of them stopped as a trio of fleeing figures stumbled into view behind the glass. Gunshots dogged their steps, and one of them was hit in a spray of blood, collapsing to the ground. Two Loping, bounding mechanical creatures hurried towards the one trailing behind the other, knocking it to the ground with some sort of electric shock, while the third was cut down by gunfire. Pistols raised, a pair of the iron men that were so commonly employed here advanced into view. Sensors noticed the Astartes, and as one the machines turned to face them with unerring precision.

"Hostiles detected," all four of them chimed at once in an automated voice. As one, they advanced, the two dog-like machines bounding ahead, electrical charge crackling around the stumps where, had they been real animals, their heads would have been, a pair of glowing red circles set within.

The shots from the two walking machine's pistols shattered the glass fronting separating the two groups of antagonists, and the two Astartes opened fire.

The integrated targeters that had each helm linked to each other pointed out where they were firing; Hullen at the closer, dog like machines, Okeen using his more accurate weapon against the further back walkers. A double vox-click gave the signal, and they both depressed the triggers.

Less than a second later, all four machines fell to the ground as smoking wreckage.

As one, the two Astartes moved, breaking into a rapid, loping stride that kept them mobile without actually propelling them into danger, weapons up and scanning for danger. They entered the main plaza, cluttered with scaffolds and discarded equipment, weapons up.

"Movement?" Okeen asked.

"Nothing," Hullen replied. He suddenly turned, weapon barrel training on a figure leaning against a wall, clutching at its side. "Wait, it's one of the workers; I think they've been wounded."

The two advanced, still wary of an ambush, before halting next to the figure. Hullen crouched down next to it, seeing it was a xenos; brownish, smooth skin, a thin face that led straight into an equally tight neck without any chin and huge, almond shaped black eyes, screwed tight in pain. It was breathing hoarsely, before it looked up at the two and rasped in tones coloured by desperation, pain and fear; "You aren't mercs, are you?"

"We're not," Hullen said, crouching down next to it. "Was this their work?

The xenos nodded weakly.

"They were sent to clear out the shift workers," it said. "We didn't hear about the security alert until the…until the mechs were set on us."

It gasped, and hacked up a gobbet of dark green blood, too weak to even raise an arm.

"There are others," it managed. "I don't think they got out. You must help them."

The xenos slumped back against the wall, and Hullen checked for a pulse at its neck. The autosenses in his gauntlet found nothing.

"Gone," he said, somewhat dispassionately. "Nothing we could do, I suppose."

"Onwards and upwards then," Okeen said.

The two headed through the main doors at the end of the building's antechamber, scanning for any sort of stairwell or elevator. The corridor beyond it split, and both took a separate direction. Hullen found nothing on his end except empty rooms, until Okeen voxed in; "Found some stairs."

The steps were still just raw concrete, without any railings or other ornamentation, and the Astartes took them two at a time. A few storeys upwards they ended, the next flight up cutting off in midair. The two Astartes advanced down the corridor, their weapons up. They rounded a corner, and halted as they heard voices.

"Where the hell are those mechs?" one of them was complaining. "I thought you ordered them back here once they'd dealt with those workers."

"Yeah, I had," another voice said. "Goddamnit, they've probably glitched again."

"Well aren't you going to go check it out? It's your job?"

"Yeah, alright," the other said, a note of reluctance in his voice.

"What?"

"You remember what happened last time some mechs glitched?"

"Oh for God's sake, that was a one off. Sure John lost an eye, but they're only mechs."

"Fine," the other said. "But you're coming with me."

"Pussy."

"Shut up."

Two figures in yellow and black armour rounded the corner, and froze as they saw the Astartes. One of them managed, "What the fu-" before, lightning-swift, Hullen and Okeen moved. Hullen's machine gun blazed and punched one from his feet, while the chainblade on Okeen's Narthecium buzzed and slammed into the other's throat, sawing through his windpipe.

"Hey!" another voice called out, and Okeen looked across a larger room, scattered with construction materials to see yet more mercenaries. One of them, his armour covered with shifting holographic projections, ordered the others forwards, and Okeen sprinted to cover to avoid their weapon fire. Hullen ducked round the corner and opened fire, spraying rounds across the room and knocking a few mercenaries down. A bolt of biotic force was sent forwards from the mercenaries' holo-armoured leader, slamming into Okeen, and the Apothecary stumbled as he felt it try and pull him upwards. In return, he raised his weapon and opened fire, a few of the holograms winking out before the mercenary ducked to cover.

Hullen slammed a new coolant clip into the his weapon, advancing forward as he slammed fire into the mercenary's position, Okeen staying where he was, scanning for movement. Realising his position was compromised, the mercenary made a break for it. Okeen's first shot impacted the man's shoulder, the second, third and fourth causing the shields to overload and wink out, the last two punching him from his feet. He did not rise.

Hullen crouched down next to one of the mercenaries, a human, and examined the stylised 'E' emblazoned on the chestplate of his armour.

"Eclipse," he remarked. "Same lot Malleus and Titus ran into earlier."

"Probably have a monopoly on security here," Okeen said, reloading his weapon.

"Probably," Hullen agreed, standing up. "Didn't see us coming though, I don't think. Anyway, do you think that's all they've done of those stairs?"

"There's got to be another way up," Okeen said, looking over the room. "You see any other stairs?"

"No," Hullen said. "But what about this door through here?"

He pressed a button by it, and after a moment it slid open, revealing what looked to be a small, square room.

"A lift," Hullen said, stepping into it followed by Okeen. "That's useful."

He looked over the control hologram of the machine, noticing most of the upper buttons were coloured red, before settling on highest button, marked eighty three. Hullen pressed it, the hologram winking from blue to green to mark that it had been pressed, and with a hum it rose up. Both Astartes slammed new coolant canisters into their weapons as the lift began to speed upwards, before it began to slow. With a quiet ping, it halted, and the doors slid open.

The small squad of mercenaries barely noticed the doors of the elevator opening before Hullen and Okeen burst from within with weapons blazing. Most were gunned down before they could react, while the rest either took cover or fled, yelling warnings. Most of those fleeing were knocked down by Hullen's machine gun, but a few got away, yelling warnings even as their comrades began to return fire.

Both Astartes didn't bother ducking into cover, unconcerned with the small arms the mercenaries were carrying and simply advancing forwards, sending rounds downrange relentlessly. Hullen's thermal clip ran dry, and instead of bothering change it he simply got his spare from his chest, the break in his firing momentary. In less than a minute the room had been cleared, but already the two Astartes were moving forwards. They parted ways down the corridors that some of the mercenaries had fled along without a word, weapons held ready as they advanced in a pincer movement.

They both reached what looked to be the very top of the half constructed building at around the same time, and walked into a wall of fire.

Hullen ducked as a rocket streaked towards him and exploded on a nearby wall, before leaning out of his position and letting loose, spraying round onto a set of crates some mercenaries had sheltered behind and knocking one from his feet. He glanced over at the area around him; no barriers around the edge that led to a drop that he guessed was easily a kilometre deep, and a half finished storey of the building up above him. Blocks of concrete and scaffolding piles were scattered around, and at least thirty mercenaries were taking cover behind those, while across a long bridge into the completed Tower One he could see more yellow armoured figures surging forwards, along with two giants, each easily twelve feet tall, stomping slowly towards them.

Okeen was just across from him, trading fire with some of the mercs, and Hullen decided that it was time to take some bolder action. And so, he unclamped the other, currently empty weapon from his belt, placed a new thermal clip into it to stop the mass-driver from overheating, had both the barrels fold in on themselves, raised the two weapons and stepped out.

The M-76 Revenant Machine Gun had, over the three years since its first manufacture, become a firm favourite of many of those who went to war. An ultra-efficient coolant system allowed eighty shots to be fired with a single thermal clip before it had to be replaced, while recoil dampeners allowed long bursts to be fired with reasonable accuracy. It was touted as the ultimate general purpose weapon by its manufacturer, the Sirta Foundation, able to adapt to almost any situation that might present a soldier.

But it was highly unlikely that the Sirta Foundation had ever thought somebody would have used two at once.

Hullen charged from his position, a near-solid wall of mass-driver rounds preceding his advance. The mercenaries hadn't expected the tactic, and for a vital second they panicked before they turned their weapons on him, but already Hullen was among them. Arms held wide, firing with the combined skill of his power armour and two hundred years of fighting, he stormed the barricade, panicking mercenaries all around him as he opened fire. Okeen joined the advance and vaulted over a block of concrete, slamming down as he landed and opening fire.

Within seconds the mercenaries were finished, and the two Astartes slammed fresh thermal clips into their weapons. Without a word, they charged towards the bridge towards the enemy reinforcements, wading through firepower and dodging the rockets that were sent towards them. The two giant, white clad machines, ones that bore a vague resemblance to miniaturised Warlord Titans, opened fire with some sort of higher calibre weapons, focusing their fire on Okeen, and the apothecary stumbled as the hyper-velocity rounds slammed into him.

Hullen, on the other hand, had no such reservations and continued his charge, still sending hundreds of rounds screaming towards the mercenaries. Several were cut down and the remainder opted to take cover in the face of the his advance, but the Astarte didn't stop, continuing to move and fire, one Revenant pouring rounds into the one of the giant machines, the other sending firepower into the other machine. The walker poured fire after him, joined by its fellow, but Hullen was a step ahead, his speed belied by his bulk.

Between the machines and the mercenaries he dove behind a pile of scaffolding and metal planking, sending what was left of the thermals into the mercenaries before he heard the whoosh of missiles. He leapt forwards just as they hit the scaffolding, desperately trying to force another thermal clip into the weapon as shards of metal exploded around him. He yelled in shock as a flying plank clipped his helmet, reducing his vision to a blur of static, and as it cleared he saw another missile screaming towards him. He scrambled aside as it smashed into the floor, knocked away by the impact and feeling one of his weapons shatter beneath his weight as he landed on it.

Both of the machines seemed to take a moment to pause as they turned to face Hullen, weapon systems switching from missile launcher to machine gun, before they opened fire on the prone Astartes.

One of them suddenly paused, a shower of sparks erupting from the weapon arm as Okeen's chainblade tore past the kinetic barrier that had protected it from the majority of Hullen's bullets. It turned to face him, but its cumbersome, clumsy steps proved to be its undoing as Okeen grabbed some handhold in its armour, pulled himself upwards and slammed his narthecium into the downward pointing, cylindrical head of the machine. Sparks flew and the machine stood still for a moment until emergency protocols used the last remnants of its power to shut down the mass effect engines powering it; with a whine, it toppled backwards, Okeen standing over it like one of the heroes of ancient Terra astride the corpse of some hideous beast.

The second machine lumbered towards him, but Hullen was up and slammed his combat knife into one of the servo joints of its leg. Sensing the threat, the machine attempted to turn, but whatever simple Virtual Intelligence that governed it neglected its damaged joint, and smoke began to belch from the wound as it tried to move on the damaged limb. Hullen wrenched the weapon free as Okeen barrelled into the giant machine, slamming his narthecium into its torso. The machine began to tip, before crashing backwards with such force that metal floor beneath it was dented. It tried to raise both its weapon arms, but as one Hullen and Okeen slammed their weapons into the joints of them, leaving the machine paralysed and helpless.

They clambered to their feet, scanning for danger, before they realised the mercenaries were gone.

"Cowards," Hullen said. Okeen shrugged.

"Can you blame them?"

The hurried to the end of the bridge, weapons still up in case of an ambush, but there was nothing they hurried through the door at the end of bridge. The room they entered was furnished, but was empty of mercenaries.

Together, they followed a sign pointing towards an elevator, the only sign of Eclipse's presence being the occasional piece of upturned furniture. The lift itself was empty as the two Astartes called it, and once in they picked the top button, marked 'Penthouse.' The wait was a short one, and the lift doors opened to what could only be an argument.

"What do you mean, 'they ran away?'" an Asari was yelling at a human in yellow armour. "I don't pay your people to run away, I pay them to fight."

"Hey listen, lady," the mercenary said. "You didn't pay us to deal with eight foot supersoldiers that can kill YMIR mechs with goddamn _knives_. I'm not sticking around to be killed either."

"You're going?" the Asari said. "We have a contract! You will stay here or by the Goddess I will sue you and your damn company for everything you have!"

"You're going to have to do better than that, I'm afraid," Hullen said. "Mercenaries are only going to get you so far. They back out from overwhelming odds if they're sensible, no matter how much money you offer."

The mercenary started as he saw the two Astartes appear, before he realised the lifeline he was being thrown and nodded hurriedly, jogging out of the room the lift with a cheerful farewell of; "Try suing me now!"

"Come back here! I'm Nassana Dantius, and my company is bigger than your little rent-a-cop operation will ever be. I'll liquidate the whole lot of you, you hear?" the Asari shouted after him, but her pleas fell on deaf ears as the mercenary reached the lift, pressed the button and gave her the finger as the doors shut. "Stupid, incompetent…you're here to kill me, aren't you? Who hired you, one of my sisters?"

"Actually, nobody hired us," Okeen said.

"So this is personal, then?" Nassana Dantius said.

"No," Hullen said. "We aren't here to kill you, actually."

Behind Nassana, unnoticed by the Asari, a slim figure dropped through a ventilation shaft, landing silently on the carpeted floor.

"So you decimate my security and storm through my property for what?" Nassana said. "If you're not here to kill me, then what do you want?"

"We're not here to kill you," Hullen said. "But he is."

Nassana turned, and managed a startled squawk as she saw the assassin. The figure grabbed the Asari and slammed a pistol into her stomach, before pulling the trigger. Nassana gasped as the assassin gently pushed her onto the desk, the killer folding the Asari's arms over each other, before bowing his head and holding his hands together, bowing his head and murmuring something in a rapid alien tongue.

Hullen and Okeen glanced to one another, before Hullen stepped forwards and asked; "Thane Krios?"

"I am indeed Thane Krios," the assassin said in a quiet, hoarse growl of a voice, face still hidden in shadow. "But please; prayers for the wicked must not be interrupted."

"She'd need a lot of prayer then," Okeen said, nodding to Nassana's corpse.

"Not her, myself," Thane said, before continuing to speak a few more words in the same language. Seeming to have finished, he let his arms fall to the side, and stepped round the desk.

There was a hint of something vaguely human-like in the features of Thane Krios, but the resemblance to a human was even more fleeting than that held by a Turian. There was a reptilian set to his features, his skin a pale shade of green, and where his hairline should have been a frill of hexagonal plates protruded, while behind them, along the side of his neck, lines of folded skin, maybe gills, were present, and his eyes were larger than any human's would have been, each one shining and dark.

"The measure of an individual can be hard to discern from actions alone," Thane said as he approached the Astartes. "Take you, for instance. All this destruction, chaos, death. I was curious to see how far you would go to find me. Well, here I am."

"You were expecting us?" Hullen asked.

"I wasn't," Thane said. "I had no idea of your presence until you marched into the front door and started shooting. An unsubtle and some might say foolish approach, but it is clear that you knew what you were doing."

"You're right about that," Okeen said.

"Nassana had become paranoid; you saw the strength of her guard force," Thane said, nodding. "She believed one of her sisters would kill her. You were a valuable distraction."

"Glad to help," Hullen said.

"Yet you were looking for me," Thane said. "You aided me greatly, thus I am in your debt. What would you like to discuss."

"Somebody's been abducing entire human colonies," Okeen said. "Everybody's taken, no survivors, nobody left over and no signs of resistance. We were lucky and found the culprits; a race known as the Collectors. We're going to stop them."

"The Collectors? Yes, I know of them," Thane said. "But attacking the Collectors would require passing through the Omega-Four relay, and no ship attempting that has returned." 

"We're quite capable of the impossible," Hullen said.

"Had I not seen what you had just done, I would mistake those words for arrogance," Thane said. "Yet you are not arrogant; it is clear you know your capabilities quite well. Take this tower; you walked through the front door and started shooting, the least subtle and riskiest approach possible, yet you overcame the resistance offered by Eclipse with ease. Even a fool would not have done such a thing."

He turned and looked out of the window, into the setting sun of Ilium.

"This was to be my last job," he said. "I'm dying. Low survival odds do not concern me; the abduction of your colonists does, however. I shall help you?"

"Not too look a gift grox in the mouth, but just like that?" Okeen asked.

"The Collectors have never acted in Galactic interests before," Thane said. "I doubt they are doing so now. If it threatens humanity, it most likely will threaten all in the long run."

"You said you were dying," Hullen said. "What is it? Disease? Is it contagious?"

"Contagious? No. It is not curable, however. Simply giving me this opportunity is enough."

He looked across at the two Astartes.

"Many innocents died today," he said. "Because I was not fast enough. I must atone for that."

"So you'll help us?" Okeen asked.

"Free of charge."

#

"Ave Imperator, Thane Krios," Malleus said as the assassin entered the Normandy's briefing room. Behind him, Titus bowed his head to the xenos as well.

"It is good to meet the leader of the two fine men come to find me, Malleus Scandarum," Thane said, inclining his head.

"My thanks," Malleus said. "But I was informed that you had a medical condition of some sort. Is this going to be a hindrance?"

"At this moment? No," Thane said. "I have perhaps ten months before it become truly debilitating and after that another two, if I'm lucky. Don't worry, it isn't contagious. It's incurable, and I have reconciled with myself with my own mortality long ago; it will not distract me from the task at hand."

"I see," Malleus said. "Where do you wish to be quartered?"

"Somewhere on the ship where the air is driest," Thane said.

EDI's hologram replaced that of the Normandy in the centre of the briefing room.

"The Life Support room is markedly more arid than the rest of the ship," the AI said. "Perhaps you might wish to stay there?"

"An AI," Thane observed, before nodding his head to EDI. "My thanks."

He turned and left the room, the slight swallow-tails of the coat he wore flapping with each movement of his legs.

"How polite," EDI remarked approvingly as the door closed behind him.

Malleus nodded slightly, before saying, "EDI, is the rest of crew aboard?"

"Correct," EDI said. "Though several appear to have a notable concentration of alcohol in their bloodstream."

Malleus shrugged.

"Can we fly?"

"Our helmsman is still capable of such a thing," EDI said. "Shall I give the order to depart?"

"Do so," Malleus said. "Inform Joker that we're heading out of system."

"I shall," EDI said. The hologram winked out.

"And did the transfer of Miranda's sister go well, then?" Malleus asked Titus, turning to the standard bearer.

"With barely a hitch," Titus said. "Well, aside from all the mercenaries. But we dealt with them easily enough. I might do what Hullen was doing on the Dantius Towers and try them both at once; see if I can persuade Kullas to make these things get more than one shot out of a thermal clip so I don't have to cock it all the time. Still, Miranda doesn't need to worry about her sister any more; she'll be focused for when the time comes, which is what we want."

"Good," Malleus said. "You are dismissed. Now I need to plan our next move."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20-Politics

In the small shrine that the Astartes had made on the starboard observation deck of the Normandy, Malleus knelt. It was a modest thing, a small Aquila of beaten gold, a few parchments and purity scrolls mounted upon a table, a scattering of candles, Kurias' battered old copy of the Imperial Creed to one side. No priest would ever consecrate it, no pilgrims would visit it, no masses would be held for the chanting of hymns, but it was the only link the Astartes and Kurias had to the Imperial Faith; to them, it had already become sacred territory.

"Great Emperor, Immortal Lord of Man," Malleus murmured in gothic as he clasped his hands together and bowed his head in prayer. "I seek your guidance this day."

The rest of the deck was deserted; Kullas still working on whatever project he had started yesterday on Ilium, Gaius already pushing himself harder on the VR simulator, Titus giving Grunt further training, Cyralius no doubt already logged onto the Extranet and gathering yet more information about this galaxy, Okeen discussing Astartes physiology with Professor Solus in the laboratory, Hullen most likely pestering Jacob in the armoury for a replacement for his broken Revenant.

"It is said only a weak mind gives in to doubt, my lord," Malleus said. "Yet I find myself weighed down by its shackles. Once I knew my duty; now, I am unsure. On one hand, my duty is to destroy xenos, but on the other it is to protect man. Once the lines between friend and foe were drawn clearly; now they are blurred. My lord, I seek your wisdom and guidance in this matter."

It was a short, prayer, no pomp, no ceremony, a working prayer.

"Ave Imperator," Malleus said. "Angelus hac rege."

He stood, and then paused as he sensed the presence of another in the room. He glanced over his shoulder, and saw the xenos Samara looking at him, an expression of curiosity on her face.

"May I help you?" he asked.

"It isn't anything important," Samara said, voice calm and soft as ever. "Not if you have anything to go to."

"I have nothing outstanding, no," Malleus said. "What did you want?"

"I just saw the shrine you had made," Samara said. "And I was curious about your religion. Is it to the Emperor you told me of when I first arrived?"

"It is, yes," Malleus said.

"And he's your god?" Samara asked.

"Yes and no," Malleus said. "To much of the Imperium he is a god, immortal, sustaining the Imperium through the Astronomicon Beacon that we navigate space by. But to Astartes, no he is not."

"Then why do you pray to him?" Samara asked.

"We venerate him as a great leader," Malleus said. "A warrior and a scholar in equal measure and excelling all others in both regards. You know of Cyralius' powers; his were a thousandfold. When man was torn asunder and left scattered by the Old Night, he bore the torch of unity and hope into the darkness, forged legions of Astartes like myself and united humanity once again. We do not worship him as a god, but a being such as himself is worthy of worship if anything is."

"Interesting," Samara said. "What was the Old Night, though?"

"A great cataclysm," Malleus said. "There were great Warp storms, storms that caused disruption in the fabric of space and time, that separated humankind over many centuries. Some fell prey to and were enslaved by aliens, but others survived, albeit in a greatly weakened state. Had it not been for the Emperor, humanity would have died out."

"Impressive," Samara said. "I suppose I can see why you pray to him."

"Are you a religious woman, Samara?" Malleus asked, sitting on the bench of the observation deck.

"I follow the old Asari religion of the Goddess," Samara said. "Most of the younger Asari born in the last twelve hundred years or so believe in the Universal Spirit, but my mother was born before that idea got off the ground, and she passed it on to me."

"I see," Malleus said, before something the Justicar said suddenly jumped out at him. "Hold a moment, are you more than a thousand years old?"

"Not quite," Samara said, with a slight smile. "I'm reaching my eighth century in a few years, but my mother was in her mid six-hundreds when she had me."

"You are immortal?"

"Some think we are," Samara said. "Though that's a matter of perspective, really; few of us live to be more than a millennium old."

"I see," Malleus said. "Can't say I expected to hear that."

"How long do Astartes live for, then?" Samara asked.

"The eldest of our number, Commander Dante of the Blood Angels, is over a thousand years old," Malleus said. "But I don't think any Astartes have died of old age; we're warriors, and remain so all our lives. We never have the chance." 

"Sounds harsh to me," Samara said. "Do you not wish to die peacefully?"

"Why? What kind of legacy is that?" Malleus asked. "Astartes aren't like other people, Samara. We are made for war. We live war, we breathe war, we _are_ war. When we are not fighting, we are training, or in transit to the next campaign. We always die in battle."

Samara gave him a look that could have been one of sympathy.

"That does not sound a happy life," she said.

"I'd not live any other," Malleus replied. "There is no greater honour than to give one's life in the name of the Emperor and His people."

"You sound like you're quoting."

"I am. Actually, one question, Samara, about the Asari. Whenever I've seen your people, they've all been women, each and every one. What do you do with your men, lock them up indoors?"

"We don't have any," Samara replied.

"So, you're telling me Asari are monogendered?" Malleus asked

"That's right. I won't go into the details, but each Asari has a latent biotic talent, which some of us choose to develop, and some don't. But we can use it to, how could I say, bond with somebody of our choice, and conceive a child with them. It doesn't even have to be another Asari; we can access the basic DNA of any species."

"Interesting," Malleus said, secretly wondering how many of the Asari he had seen on Ilium carried some sort of corrupted, mongrel human genetic coding within their DNA. It was as bad a genestealer cult, he thought. "Can't say I've heard of a species reproducing in such a manner before."

"Captain, sir," a voice said at the door of the chamber, and Malleus glanced over to it.

"Yeoman Chambers," he said, nodding his head to the young woman. "What is it?"

"I've got news, sir," she said. "Really, you need to follow me. This is important."

She stepped away from the door, and Malleus followed, Samara in his wake.

"What is it?" Malleus asked.

"The news," Kelly said.

"No, I mean what is this news you wish to tell me of?" 

"That's what I mean, captain," Kelly said as they reached the crew deck of the Normandy. "The _news_."

On one of the pict-screens on the crew deck, several members of the crew gathered around it, an Asari was looking into the camera, holding a microphone.

"That's right Lorina," the xenos was saying as Malleus entered. "So far we've no idea who these mysterious 'giants of Ilium' are, what they want or even what they are doing on our planet, but we-"

Kelly changed the channel, and another news reporter, this one a Turian, appeared.

"Exactly what their motivation for the brutal attack on the Dantius Towers was is still unknown," he was saying. "But it's clear that these, and I use the term lightly here, 'people' have been gene modded far, far beyond legal limits. Whether this is the test of some Alliance prototype supersoldier project or whether these individuals are working independently, we don't yet-"

"And now for our top story," another Asari, this one sitting at a desk, said as Kelly changed to a third channel. "The so-called 'Giants of Ilium.' Yesterday, sightings of eight foot tall 'superhumans' were reported all around the capital of Ilium, Nos Astra. So far, Alliance officials have denied any involvement with-"

"It's an absolute disgrace," a batarian being interviewed on the streets of some city said into a microphone of a sympathetic reporter as Kelly changed the channel once again. "The Alliance has overstepped the mark this time; I say we remove their council seat for this."

"And this is all over the news?" Malleus asked.

"Every channel," Kelly said, frowning sympathetically. "And pretty much all of them are being hostile about this."

Behind them, the story changed from Malleus and his brothers' appearance on Ilium to the crashing of the price in Eclipse Private Security's stock following severe personnel loss and criminal activity allegations, and Kelly switched it off.

"Imperator Omnipotentis," Malleus murmured. "This isn't good. Any other news I should know about?"

"You've been requested to meet with the council as soon as you can at the Citadel," Kelly answered. "And also Badass Weekly wants to interview you."

"Badass Weekly?" Malleus asked.

"They're a magazine," Kelly said. "Never read it, but it seems to be about weapons and mercenary work, apparently."

"Put that aside," Malleus said. "I've better things to do than be pestered by a remembrancer from some ridiculous little magazine."

"What do we do then, sir?" Kelly asked.

"Inform the council that we will make for the Citadel with all due haste, and will meet them as soon as we can," Malleus said. "EDI, tell Joker to plot a course for the Citadel."

"Done," EDI said over the nearest intercom speaker.

"Good," Malleus said. "And now we get to the politics. What fun this is going to be."

#

The Normandy's transition between the Ilium Mass Effect Relay and the Serpent Nebula's was a smooth one, the ship jumping through time and space in its own bubble of faster-than-light reality within a few hours. During that time, Malleus had been planning this meeting with the same detail and care that he would put into any combat operation. He would not let this go badly; no watchman could properly guard a people that hated him.

The Normandy winked into existence at the edge of the Serpent Nebula relay, the immense, ancient structure, one that predated the council or even the first of its representative species taking to space, dwarfing the Normandy a hundredfold. For a moment, the ship hung in the vacuum before Joker activated the sub-lumen engines and began to guide the Normandy towards the Citadel.

Malleus was standing in the observation deck, keen to see the famed space station that served as a great embassy for the various species of the Council, flanked by his brothers and Kurias. The Normandy was curving and arcing around at the edge of some great cloud of cosmic debris, before the Citadel came into view.

The first thing about the Citadel that would strike any observer was its sheer size. It was immense, five great, tapering arms stretching around a central ring in a colossal star shape. Thousands of ships, mere dots compared to the goliath in their midst, swarmed around its gigantic bulk. It was truly colossal thing, easily the equal of the greatest of Imperial ships; the only thing that Malleus could think of that were bigger were some of the most powerful Star Forts.

The Normandy swept closer, and within minutes they entered the embrace of those great arms, heading towards the central ring where, Malleus saw, a single tower stretched upwards to its centre. The craft reached the base of that tower, and Joker announced over the intercom; "Captain, we're about to dock."

"Aright," Malleus said. "Call the shore party together." 

"Yes sir," Joker said. "All shore party members to the airlock. We've arrived."

The group assembled at the airlock, Samara, Garrus and Mordin, as well as his own brothers, present. They waited as the Normandy gently rocked into the dock, hearing the magnets holding it in place clanging onto its hull, before the airlock slid open, a breeze of fresh air blowing onto Malleus' face as it did so.

A crowd was waiting for them at the end of the gangplank, an assortment of humans, Asari, Turians, Salarians, Batarians, bearing placards with various slogans such as 'No terrorists on the Citadel,' 'Gene-modding has to stop,' and 'Monsters go home.'

"Monsters, they call us," Malleus murmured, quietly to himself. "Monsters!"

"People fear what they don't know," Samara said, beside him. Having the Justicar be at the front of the group was, as far as Malleus felt, an unorthodox decision, but he knew that Justicars were held in high esteem in Asari society; this would hopefully be enough to calm some of the crowd.

They headed down the ramp where a pair of people, a human and a Turian, in body armour and carrying assault rifles were waiting for them. The Turian saluted and said; "Sergeant Alnus, sir, C-Sec. We'll be escorting you to the council meeting."

"I see," Malleus said, looking over at the crowd. He was vaguely insulted by the thought that he would need escorting, but he supposed causing a riot would hardly endear him to the people in power here. "Lead on, sergeant." 

The Turian nodded before turning to face the crowd.

"Clear the way," he said, heading forwards, the crowd thankfully parting before him. "Coming through." 

Their passage through the crowd was a short one, but there was a tension in the air, one clear on the angry and frightened faces of the people around them. But there was a confused edge to it; what these people had seen on the news had told them the Astartes worked alone, presumably for the Alliance, but now they were with aliens. Malleus' gambit in bringing the xenos members, namely those members of council-representative species, of the Normandy's crew with him had worked; the crowd were thrown off balance, suddenly uncertain of themselves.

They reached a lift, where another two C-Sec guards were waiting. The doors were already opened and their escorts ushered them in before the lift began to rise.

"You've planned this precisely, I see," Malleus observed as they slowly ascended.

"The public mood's been pretty ugly about you people," the Turian said. "Council were worried about a riot."

"And your thoughts on us?" Malleus asked. This clearly threw the officer off balance for a minute, before the xenos said; "I don't know yet. You haven't tried to kill us all yet, and you look like you could pretty easily if you wanted to. Not doing that's always a good thing in my book." 

The lift came to a halt, and doors slid open. The area that they entered was, at first glance, not dissimilar to Ilium; gleaming, polished metal in curves and arcs, but there was, at least, a ceiling in this place, glass though it was. Various people were lining the edges of the place or the balconies that lined it, craning their necks to get a better view of the Astartes.

"The Council Chambers," Malleus heard Garrus mutter. "I first met Shephard here, I remember."

Still following the two officers, they were led through the large chamber round a corner that led to yet more of the same room, before they reached a door.

"They're through there," Alnus said, gesturing at the door. "Good luck, I guess."

Malleus nodded to the Turian as he and his fellow took up a guard position on either side of the door, a few more officers fanning around them as a small crowd began to gather.

The room they entered was a large one, a single walkway over a large, glass covered pit that led to a small garden below. The walkway ended the quarters of the way over the pit, and after a gap over the glass was a platform by a single, massive glass window. Four figures stood before it; a human, a Turian, an Asari and a Salarian. Another balcony lined the wall of the chamber, where more people had gathered to watch the proceedings, including several equipped with cameras and recording equipment.

"Watch the human, Councillor Udina," Garrus murmured. "I had to deal with him when Shephard and I were trying to stop Saren. He's a slippery bastard."

"I'll keep that in mind," Malleus said, before the Salarian raised his arms and announced; "This meeting is in now in session. I call for silence."

The hum of conversation around the room died away, and Malleus took a second quick look at all of the dignitaries, before the Asari asked Malleus; "Do you know why you are here this day?"

"I have a few ideas as to why you might," Malleus said. "But I'm not certain. Please, enlighten me."

"We've called you here to talk to you about you," the Asari said. "It is not common that we encounter beings such as yourselves in Citadel space; we have no legal precendent regarding the matter and so we believe that it would only be prudent to let you speak for yourselves." 

"I see, then," Malleus said. "And I thank you for this opportunity to do so. First of all, let me introduce myself as Malleus Scandarum. Me and my brothers are of the Adeptus Astartes; we were made as warriors, in order to serve as guardians and protectors."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but you said you were 'made?'" the Turian asked. "Was this genetic modification, by any chance?"

"In a way," Malleus said. "Though having talked to Mordin Solus-" here Malleus gestured the Salarian professor, "-who I'm told is quite an expert in the field of genetic sciences, I do not believe that it has been done so in a manner that is illegal."

"How is it done?" Udina asked.

"I shall have to defer to the expertise of Okeen, in this matter," Malleus said, nodding to the apothecary. "Brother, would you care to?" 

Okeen stepped forwards, bowing his head to the councilors, before speaking.

"I will not bore you with the details," he said. "But much of the so-called 'genetic' modification that Astartes initiates undergo is actually surgical. However, in order to stop our bodies rejecting organs, we're implanted with something called the progenoid gland, in our neck and our chest. These essentially create a virus that allows our bodies to work with the organs without rejecting them by working as a sort of genetic halfway house; they alter our DNA by integrating with it."

"So you actually are genetically modified," the Salarian said. "Thus, you're still an illegality."

"Not technically no," Cyralius interjected. "Under the Genetic Modification Treaty of 2137, it bans changing of genetic material by direct means. Technically, my brothers and I are simply the victims of a disease."

"A disease you agreed to contract, however," the Turian said. "Under that Treaty, we agreed it illegal to agree to have genetic modification of a major degree performed upon the self as well as to perform it, thus you are still illegal."

"Your point is a moot one, however," Cyralius said. "Our modification was performed far from any Council jurisdiction."

"Really?" Udina asked. "Would you care to tell us where it was performed?"

The question, Malleus had known, had been long coming, and he had been anticipating it. He just hoped his answer would be a convincing enough one.

"Outside of this galaxy," he lied. Perhaps, actually, not a lie, more a half-truth. "I know it sounds impossible, deluded, but look at us for a moment. We are augmented to be beyond human, but far, far beyond the capabilities of your scientists. Our equipment is centuries, perhaps millennia beyond what even your best manufacturers can achieve. As implausible as it sounds, assuming that we and our equipment were made with your technology is even more so. Not even your best geneticists could achieve the perfection of the Astartes."

"I'm sorry, but 'perfection?'" the Asari asked. "Isn't that a little bit of a bold statement to make. Some might say even go as far to call it arrogant and inflammatory one, even."

"It can be construed as such," Malleus said. "But it is simple fact; we are inured to fear, immune to poisons and diseases, will not age, are far stronger and faster than any other, need little sleep and little food, can see in near pitch blackness and can take more punishment than a Krogan. I mean no insult or boast when I say this, I simply state the truth. Nothing more can be achieved with the mortal form."

There was a glance shared amongst the councilors, before the Turian asked; "Simply put, are you human, or aren't you?" 

"We are no more human than you are," Malleus said. "We are both genetically and biologically different to such a degree that, under your own laws, we are an entirely separate species."

This got another look around, and Udina pressed something on the pedestal in front of him. The other councilors nodded, and the Asari said; "We wish to adjourn this meeting to discuss such matters in private; we will not be long and ask that you and your fellows wait here."

The councilors stepped through a small side door, and conversation began to start up in the room in the door.

"I hope that worked," Cyralius said.

"As do I," Malleus replied. "At the very least we might well have convinced the public that we aren't some group of mass murderers."

"Maybe," Cyralius said.

"You're the psyker," Malleus said. "What's the mood of the people on these balconies?"

Cyralius looked over them slowly, before looking back at Malleus.

"Disquieted would be the best word, I think," he said. "They're not sure what to make of us. They don't seem as a fearful as before, at least. Now that we've spoken our piece, we may well have gained some support. I suggest we keep with our plan of distancing ourselves from the Alliance at this moment in time, to stop accusations from being thrown at us from various other people. You telling that councilor that you weren't human certainly helped."

"Let's just hope it paid off," Malleus said. "Hold a moment, they're coming back through." 

The councilors stepped up to their pedestals, before Udina announced; "We have decided to declare Adeptus Astartes as a new species underneath Citadel jurisdiction. Exact legal niceties can be discussed later, but for now you are all granted citizenship as a Citadel race." 

Malleus bowed his head to the councilors, saying; "It is an honour; my thanks, councilors."

"Very well," the Asari councilor said. "This meeting is adjourned."

"That went well," Titus remarked as they filed out of the chamber. "No riots at least, which certainly helps."

"I don't know," Malleus replied. "I've got a feeling things have just become a great deal more complex."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21-Reparations

"And our task is complete," Kullas announced as the final component of his creation clicked into place. "Congratulation, Tali Zorah Vas Neema, you have helped create an entirely new machine." 

"Took some time," Tali said, looking over the rather intimidating bulk of the newly made weapon. "Were all those chants and things really necessary?"

"Time consuming though they may be, they are entirely necessary," Kullas said. "A well tended, content machine spirit will offer a far better performance than any neglected one."

"Do we need to test fire it, then?" Tali asked, running her organic hand over one of its six barrels.

"I suspect it would only be prudent to let Hullen do so," Kullas said. "Of course, I may need to check the components are aligned correctly, but for the sake of his feelings I will leave the first few shots to him."

He flicked a switch and the block of fine sand, each grain of which would be fired through the weapon's mass driver as ammunition when the trigger was pulled, was removed in its storage compartment. Kullas pulled the trigger a few times and barrels began to rotate with a whine, before he released it. He murmured a few canticles, looking over the weapon, before saying; "Yes, I believe it is done. Thank you for your aid, apprentice adept Vas Neema." 

"Apprentice adept?" Tali asked, somewhat confused.

"You have received your first piece of augmetic surgery, learned several of the most important basic cants and have aided a senior magos, myself, in the construction of a machine," Kullas said. "Thus, you fulfill all the requirements to be an apprentice adept of the Adeptus Mechanicus."

"Oh, right," Tali said. "Good, I suppose."

"Is there a problem?" Kullas asked.

"It's just that, well, whenever I make anything new, will I have to do all this chanting and anointing with sacred oils and things like that?" Tali said. "I mean, how do you ever get anything done like this?" 

"Tali, to ensure optimal operation the machine spirits must be-"

"Must be content and appeased, I know," Tali said, an edge of exasperation on her voice clear even through her mask. "And it makes sense if you're doing maintenance or something, but I mean, do I have to get on my knees and _pray_ to the thing? I've never had to do that with anything I've made before, and it all works fine."

"The teachings of the Adeptus Mechanicus dictate that this must be so," Kullas said firmly, refusing to budge on his position. "We have done so since the Age of Strife and will continue to do so for as long as the Mechanius exists."

"And did people do this before the Age of Strife?" Tali retorted. "No they didn't, because you told me yourself that the Mechanicus were collecting and recovering technology from before then, but they hardly do anything new. And I know that we don't bother with this stuff nowadays. We actually get things done, we innovate, we learn, but your Mechanicus just seem to act like a bunch of glorified salvagers. How do you go anywhere by doing that?"

"What did you just say?" Kullas asked.

Tali faltered for a moment, realising that she had hit a nerve and remembering just how huge the Forge-Priest was, before she dug her heels in and said quietly; "You heard me."

Kullas picked up the weapon, slamming the ammunition back into place, and for a frightening moment Tali thought he was going to turn it on her, before he strode out of the room without another word, leaving the Quarian alone in the room. For a moment, she paused, uncertain of what to do, before shouting at the closed door; "Fine!"

Still feelingly slightly lost she left the armoury, and into the Normandy's CIC. The usual hologram of the Normandy had been replaced by a holo-screen, showing one of the Extranet's many thousand news channels, where an Asari was standing in front of the entrance to the council chamber.

"It has been an historic day for the council with the welcoming of an entirely new species into Citadel authority," the Asari was saying to the camera. "Of course, these 'Adeptus Astartes' are unique in that they were, as a matter of fact, former human victims of genetic modification."

Tali ignored rest of what the reporter was saying, slumping against a wall and sighing. Kelly, who had been watching the report with some interest, noticed the Quarian against the wall.

"You all right?" she asked quietly, heading over to the glass-masked alien.

"I'm fine," Tali said. "Kullas is just being stubborn about this religion of his again."

"People often are," Kelly said. "He probably does it because he feels out of place here; they're from a world where aliens and non-humans are all the enemies of humankind, who they're sworn to protect. Now they've got aliens who aren't out to get humans, and they're lost. Of course they're going to stick together. Kullas is probably being more traditional about his religion because he's worried about leaving everything familiar behind."

"I suppose," Tali said. "Just a lot of things about it strike me as stupid; I mean, come on, a universal, unifying consciousness inside all machines? What about, say clockwork or something? That's a machine, but there's no software in it, nothing that would even give it the potential for any sort of thought, but he insists that even that has a machine spirit."

Kelly shrugged.

"Things are different for him here," she said. "It's a lot of change to cope with. I've got to say, they seem to have changed things a lot as well."

"You're telling me," Tali said. "The most pro-human organisation in the galaxy now employs aliens, and a leader of their best funded and most important cell is himself an alien. Ha!"

Something at Kelly's wrist beeped, and she sighed as she opened up her omni-tool.

"What is it?" Tali asked as a hologram of text popped up, which Kelly was swiftly reading through.

"Another message for Malleus," Kelly replied. "They've been flooding through for the last couple of hours."

"What sort of things?" Tali asked.

"All sorts," Kelly said. "Job offerings in private security companies, various government agencies requesting specialist help, and also a lot of magazines asking for interviews as well."

Tali snorted quietly.

"What?"

"Just reminds me of something I once heard," she said. "'The end of the world is going to come through the lense of a camera for everyone to see.'"

"I can see what they mean," Kelly said, calling up another message. "Oh what's this now? What? _Fan mail_. I mean come on, already?"

"At least it isn't hate mail," Tali said, shrugging her shoulders.

"True," Kelly said. "News seems to have softened towards Malleus and the others a bit now, which is a relief."

"How long do you think they'll be talking politics?" Tali asked.

"No idea," Kelly said. "I suppose that they've never really encountered a species of just seven members before. Probably don't know what to do."

"Well as long as we don't get too bogged down in this," she said. "The galaxy isn't going to save itself."

#

"More. There must be more you can teach me," Grunt said.

"There isn't anything more you can learn," Titus said. "You've learnt every technique, every hold and every maneuver I can possibly tell you."

And damn fast, too, he added in his head. Your creator really knew what he was doing when he made you, didn't he?"

"The rest would take years," he continued. "And power armour. And having a neck."

Grunt clenched his fists in irritation, sighing through clenched teeth, before saying; "Fine. Then practice. I must still perfect them."

"Alright, can't say fairer than that," Titus said, walking to his end of the ring. Even out of his power armour wearing only a loose vest and trousers, the Astartes was a still intimidating to look at, body a shifting mass of perfectly coordinated muscle. He turned and faced Grunt, dropping into a wrestling crouch, the xenos mimicking him.

For a moment, they circled within the small training ring that Titus had made in the Normandy' hangar, watching for an opening, before, Titus moved, a swift feint that Grunt ducked away from, before trying a grab to throw the Astartes off balance. Swiftly, Titus countered, grabbing at Grunt's shoulder while sweeping at the bulky xenos' ankle to try and knock him to ground. Grunt managed to dodge Titus' foot and twisted before Titus could loose his shoulder grip. Grunt seemed faster than before, but more unfocused. Perhaps he could fool the xenos with another feint.

He made a jab at Grunt's side, but a hand grabbed Titus' head and pulled him close to Grunt's flank, trapping him in a choke hold. He tried to struggle free, but Grunt had found some reserve of strength, something Titus hadn't seen before, something able to match even his own augmented might.

"Alright," Titus managed to say, feeling Grunt's forearm beginning to constrict his windpipe. "You win, Grunt."

No reply, and the grip tightened further. Titus gasped, before managing to choke out; "Grunt!"

He managed to look upwards, and Grunt's eyes were vacant, blank; the xenos wasn't hearing him at all.

Titus slammed a fist up into the xenos' snout, and he felt cartilage crack under the impact. Grunt's stranglehold was released, and the krogran stumbled back with a roar of pain, clutching his snout as yellowish blood seeped between his fingers.

"Imperator omnipotentis, Grunt, what was that?" Titus berated as he stood straight, rubbing his neck. "What were you thinking?"

"I…I don't know," Grunt said quietly. There was a note of shame to his deep voice, a fearful one. "I don't think I was thinking anything. I don't think I knew you were there."

There was definitely worry in his voice.

"I just wanted to kill you, to destroy you," Grunt said. "I know you are a mentor to me, but I couldn't control this."

"Are you alright, Grunt?" Titus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know," the xenos said. The bleeding at his snout had stopped, and he lowered his hands. "I just felt really, really angry. I've just spent the last few days feeling like this; I just want to break something, and its not enough when I do. I can't control it!"

The last statement was accompanied by Grunt slamming his fists into the top of a few crates, the metal bending beneath the impact.

"Is that normal for Krogan?" Titus asked.

"I…I do not know," Grunt said.

"Damn. EDI," Titus called. "Any medical information on this sort of thing?" 

"I'm sorry, but no data available," the AI replied. "Perhaps you should ask a Krogan physician."

"And where are we going to find one of those?" Titus asked.

"I would suggest the Citadel, as we are here, but customs and census records indicate that there are no Krogan registered as doctors on the station at the moment," EDI said.

"What?" Titus asked. "I thought you said this place had a population of thirteen million." 

"Only a few thousand of which are Krogan," EDI answered. "And almost all of these are registered as working as mercenaries."

"Damn," Titus said. "So where would we find a Krogan doctor?"

"Tuchanka," Grunt said.

"Where?" 

"Tuchanka. The Krogan homeworld. There are clans there. They will know what is wrong with me. They will know how to cure me. This sort of anger, it's good, but only if I can control it. This is a disease."

"Well then, it looks like Tuchanka is where we're headed," Titus said. "These talks with all the politicians are probably going to go on for a while yet, by my reckoning. I don't think there's any harm in us slipping away for a day or two. EDI, when's the next ship we can take to Tuchanka."

"Searching," EDI said, before saying a moment later: "There is a ship with tickets available for Tuchanka that departs in two hours. Shall I book them?"

Titus looked over to Grunt, who nodded.

"Booked," EDI announced.

"Good," Titus said. "If Malleus asks, tell him that Grunt needs help with personal business."

"I shall do so," EDI said. "I wish you both luck."

"Thanks," Titus said. "Well Grunt, I suppose we should get our things together. We've got a long journey ahead of us."

#

"Tali?" Kullas asked as he entered the entered the engineering deck. "Are you here?" 

Tali glanced up to see the Astarte entering the room, before asking; "What do you want?"

"I…I wish to apologise," Kullas said. "I do not believe I have been entirely fair on you."

Tali was taken aback for a moment, trying to think of something to say, before Kullas went on; "I expected unquestioning faith as to the existence of the Machine Spirit when I should have anticipated a perfectly understandable skepticism; that was foolish of me, especially seeing as your people value innovation so highly. I believe, however, that I may be able to prove to you the existence of the machine spirit once and for all." 

"How?" Tali asked.

"I shall need your hand," Kullas asked. Tali raised her hand towards him, still a little lost, until Kullas said; "No, your other hand. Disengage it, please."

A mental impulse detached the augmetic from its anchor, and Tali handed the device to Kullas. The forge priest placed the mechanical limb onto a table, chattering rapid binaric before a his from his plasma cutter opened its shell. He unclamped a small component that he had been carrying on his belt and placed it within, before shuttin the bionic's case once again.

"What was that?" Tali asked.

"You shall see," Kullas said. "Do not worry, it will do you no harm."

He handed her the bionic back, and cautiously Tali reattached it.

"Tali, I'd like you to call up that drone you have," Kullas said.

"Chiktikka Vas Paus, you mean?" Tali asked.

"Swift Mover born on, or perhaps more accurately, made on the Ship, Paus, yes," Kullas said, translating the name without any actual thought.

"Alright," Tali said. She tapped her omni tool, and a holographic globe, a pinkish-orange flickered into being from mid air. The various segments that made it up seemed to shift near-constantly as they fed various forms of information into the combat drone's remote processor, and it beeped an all clear after a moment of scanning. "Now what do I do."

"I installed a neuro-digital interface into your hand," Kullas said. "That should allow you to access its basic coding, interact with the machine spirit directly." 

"How do you do that?" Tali asked.

"It is difficult to explain," Kullas said. "It is a rather unique command for your brain to process and give; you will grow used to it in time, but I recommend you simply take hold of Chiktikka Vas Paus and think about interacting with it."

"Alright," Tali said. She crouched down and carefully reached into the core of the machine, taking a hold of the contact lense sized processor-projector that was at the drone's centre. For a moment, she did nothing, before she gasped in shock.

"I…I can feel, something," she said. "I can't describe it, it's…ah, my head!"

"Stay calm, Tali," Kullas said as soothingly as his somewhat grating voicebox could allow. "You're currently trying to absorb and understand a great deal of information; failsafes are installed on the neuro-digital interface that will prevent an overload."

"Alright," Tali said, taking a few deep breaths. "Alright, I'm calm."

"What do you think?" Kullas asked.

"This is…this is amazing," Tali said. "I can feel something in there."

"That would be the machine spirit," Kullas said. "Do you know what I mean, now?"

"Yes, I think," Tali said. "This is just…wow. I don't know how to describe it."

She withdrew her hand, and looked at the combat drone with a sense of amazement.

"And every machine has one of these?" 

"As I said, yes."

"This is…I don't know what this is," Tali said. She sat down on a chair. "So your whole religion thing was right about machine spirits, then."

"Indeed so," Kullas said. "That is why we treat them with such respect."

"Alright," Tali said. "But why is making or modifying things so difficult or dangerous."

"Without the correct incantations, the machine spirit of the new device will not be committed to the whole of the Divine Template," Kullas said. "It will be incomplete, unwholesome, a freak, and thus should be destroyed for its own sake."

"What about Chiktikka Vas Paus, then?" Tali asked. "I made him from scratch. I've rebuilt him and modified him countless times. His machine spirit was fine."

"You have no comparison to other machine spirits now, do you Tali," Kullas began, before Tali interrupted him.

"Listen to me. I'm good with machines. I've got a feel for them. I would _know_ if there was something wrong with his machine spirit, and I'm sure there isn't."

Tali activated the hologram for the drone again.

"If you're the expert, take a look at him," she said.

"Very well," Kullas said. He crouched next the drone, holding his hand near the machine. His one remaining eyebrow and the organic part of his forehead creased into a frown. "This is most irregular."

"I told you," Tali said, deactivating the drone. "Have you seen a machine spirit that wasn't added to your divine template without all your chanting and things then?"

"I…no. No I have not," Kullas said. "I suppose many people don't even dare to try."

Tali folded her arms triumphantly.

"Very well, Tali Zorah Vas Neema, it seems I have been beaten. On this front, at least," he said after a moment. "I have a great deal to ponder. But first, I suppose you should be officially ordained as an apprentice adept."

"Alright," Tali said. There was a slightly awkward silence, before Kullas said; "It is traditional to kneel."

Still slightly baffled, Tali did so, feeling Kullas' finger resting on the top of her head after a moment. He chattered something rapid binaric, before saying; "Rise."

Tali got to her feet, before asking; "Is that it?" 

"That's it," Kullas said. "You are now an official member of the Adeptus Mechanicus, humble though it is at this moment."

"Thank you," Tali said. "Is there a uniform or something I need to wear?"

"Red is usually the traditional dress of our members," Kullas said, indicating his own armour. "Usually robes, though I suppose your own suit would be perfectly adequate with the addition of some dyes."

Tali glanced over the sleeves of her enviro-suit, before saying; "I'll see what I can do."

"Excellent," Kullas said. "Congratulations, apprentice adept."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22-Tuchanka

Once, this world had been beautiful. Once, immense jungles and rolling plains had covered its surface, shallow seas had nurtured all forms of life, but the madness that was bought of frustrated honour and ancient rivalries had destroyed that. As Titus looked out of the shuttle window at the wreckage of some nuke-shattered city that stretched below him, he couldn't help but feel slightly admiration for the krogran that, even in a nuclear apocalypse of their own making, they had managed to survive in such a harsh, uncompromising environment for over a millennium before the rest of the galactic community had found them.

"Well, Grunt, we're nearly here," Titus said to the young Krogan. He was looking out of the opposite window. "What do you think?" 

"Disappointing," Grunt growled. "A mess of rubble in a dust storm. The Krogan are supposed to be greater than this."

Titus shrugged as the shuttle began to descend. Some sort of great metal blast door built into the surface of the planet was beginning to open, and the shuttle dropped into the great maw. It landed on a landing pad with a quiet thud, the retro-boosters flaring, and once stable, the door opened, sliding upward and allowing Titus and Grunt into its confines.

They approached the only door in and out, where a trio of Krogan were waiting. As they approached, the xenos drew their weapons, aimed squarely at Titus and Grunt. Only the larger one, without a helmet, did not, and said; "The clan leader wants to speak with you two. Keep your rutting pet on a short leash; get him to the Rite or I'll put him down."

"Wait a moment, you know what's wrong with Grunt here?" Titus asked.

"Wrong with him?" the Krogan said. "There's nothing wrong with him. Just go speak with the clan leader. He's waiting for you."

The Krogan stepped away, motioning to the door, which slid aside as Titus approached. They headed down a corridor of crumbling grey concrete and deep red girders, a layer of grime engrained into the stone.

"So this miserable ball of rock is Tuchanka," Grunt remarked, looking around him. "I'm disappointed."

"Life's got some harsh lessons for us, Grunt," Titus said. "And first among those is that there are a lot of disappointments in store."

Grunt sighed and shook his head as the two entered what appeared to be larger chamber. It was halfway between an underground vault and a bunker; chunks of rubble were piled at random points around the floor, and the high ceiling was crumbling, a few shard of sunlight beaming through here and there. On the far side of the great room was a Krogan sitting on what could be a throne made from chunks of shattered concrete. It was arguing with another xenos, and a pair of Krogan were standing at the foot of a ramp of pulverised rubble that led up to the impromptu throne.

"That must be him," Titus said.

"Good," Grunt replied. "Let's get this done with."

They approached, and were halted by the two guards.

"Wait here," one of them said. "The clan leader will speak to you soon."

"You're pushing aside traditions too fast, clan leader," the Krogan up on the platform was saying to his enthroned chieftain. "The other clans will not tolerate it much longer."

"Those same traditions are killing the Krogan," the clan leader replied in a deep, gravelly voice. "Besides, we bargain from a superior position; the main agitators are alone and risk much more by attacking us than they do by cooperating. They will learn, Uvenk."

"But-"

"Not now, Uvenk," the clan leader said. "I have other business to attend to."

He rose from his throne, and beckoned Grunt and Titus forwards.

"So," he said, stepping down from it to greet them. "You're one of these Astartes, then."

"That's right," Titus said, extending a gauntlet. "Titus Adron, at your service. I don't have to do any diplomatic things, do I?"

"Not if you don't want to," the clan leader said, taking Titus' hand. He was a big beast; even though his head was recessed into his shoulders, like all Krogan, the hump in his back made him nearly Titus' height. His own head was capped by a deep crimson ridge, unlike Grunt's flatter, greyer top, and a trio of scars, probably claw marks, crossed a deep tract around the leathery skin by one of his eyes. "Urdnot Wrex. It's interesting to meet one of your people in the flesh so soon. I saw your meeting with the Council yesterday, and it got my interest piqued. I was most impressed by your clan leader.

"Well, we call him brother-captain, but he tells us what to kill and where to kill it, and he's always at the front, so I guess clan leader works," Titus replied.

"So he knows how to lead," Wrex said. "I approve of that. But I was interested in one claim he made; might flush a few plates, saying that you're stronger and tougher than even a Krogan."

"Well, I'm right here," Titus said, smiling slightly. "You're welcome to test that claim."

Wrex looked at the Astarte for a moment, before his snout split into a grin and he burst out laughing.

"I like you, Titus," he said. "What do you want, then?"

"Grunt here has something wrong with him," Titus said, before remembering the guard's words and adding; "Or possibly not wrong with him."

"I know what it is. I can smell it from here," Wrex said, walking over to Grunt and looking the young Krogan up and down. "You're growing up."

"So that's what it is," Grunt said, a note of relief on his voice.

"Hold on a moment, if all young Krogan want to just destroy things once they're growing up, why aren't your people extinct or something by now?" Titus asked. "Surely all you would do is fight each other?"

"It is not as simple as that," Wrex said. "Every young Krogan must take his clan's rite of passage once he reaches a certain age; if he completes it, he is accepted into the clan. That usually tempers violent urges."

"I see," Titus said. "So can Grunt take that passage?"

"No he cannot," the other Krogan, Uvenk, interjected. Until now, Wrex' green-plated second had remained silent, but now he viewed it necessary to speak; "He is not of this clan."

"Uvenk is right," Wrex said. "What is your clan? Was it destroyed while you were still a child?"

"I have no clan," Grunt said. "I was tank bred by the Warlord Okeer; my lineage distilled by Morroh, Shiaga, Turg, Wrend, Veolta and Urdnot."

"Okeer?" Wrex said. "I knew of him. Dangerous, but brilliant. What happened to him?"

"He is dead," Grunt replied.

"You are the spawn of a maniac with a syringe," Uvenk said. "You are an abomination, a freak."

"A freak?" Grunt said. "I am pure Krogan; you should be in awe!"

"Grunt," Titus said. "It's probably not a good idea to tell the leader of a clan you want to join that he should be in awe of you; it leaves a bad impression."

"What?" Grunt asked. "You just challenged him to a fight!"

"No, I invited him to a good natured bout of sparring," Titus said. "There's a difference there. Urdnot Wrex, excuse Grunt. He's young." 

"I'll let it pass," Wrex said. "This once. But you want to be in our clan?"

"If that's what I need, then yes," Grunt said.

"Clan leader, I must object," Uvenk began, before Wrex interrupted him.

"The laws say any young Krogan may be accepted into any clan if he does not already have one," Wrex said. "They say nothing about disallowing artificially made Krogan. Any more objections and I'll throw you to the varren."

Uvenk shrugged his shoulders, glaring at Titus and Grunt with undisguised dislike. Titus stared back impassively for a moment, before saying to Wrex; "So what does Grunt need to do?"

"You will both need to speak to Clan Urdnot's shaman," Wrex said. "He's on the upper level; he'll tell you what you need to know."

"No time like the present then, Grunt," Titus said. "Let's go. Thank you for your time, clan leader." 

Wrex just nodded his head.

The only way up was through a doorway recessed into the side of the main clan chamber, behind which a pair of stairs wound upwards in on themselves. The two headed up them, before stopping at the top, seeing that the corridors branched off in several directions.

"Which way to the shaman?" Titus asked a Krogan leaning against a nearby wall.

"Why should I tell you, human?" the xenos asked, narrowing its eyes.

Titus unclamped his bayonet from his power armour, and twirled it between fingers.

"Two things," he said. "First of all, I'm not a human being. Secondly; because if you don't, then I'll skin you alive."

The Krogan looked at Titus carefully, before gesturing down the nearest corridor.

"He's through there," he said. "Just round the corner."

"Thank you," Titus said. "Things can be so much nicer when you just make a bit of an effort to get along."

The room they entered was a fairly small one, glass walls looking over the main clan chamber. It was a simple affair; a cot bed, a small table cluttered with various pieces of miscellany and a computer terminal.

"So you arrive," the Krogan sitting on the bed said. "I was expecting you."

"You were?" Titus asked. "Since when?"

"I saw you both enter and speak to the clan leader Wrex," the Krogan said. "A young Krogan with no clan markings and an alien, who then speak with Urdnot Wrex. It wasn't much to work out what you were looking for."

"And I take it you're the shaman," Titus said.

"Correct," the shaman said. "And no doubt your young friend here wants to join Clan Urdnot."

"I do," Grunt said. "What do I need to do for this rite of passage, shaman?"

"It is a test of strength," the shaman said. "You must prove yourself as a warrior; we will take you to the proving grounds, and there you will be tested. If you survive, you will be welcomed into Clan Urdnot as one of our own."

"Then take me there," Grunt said. "I am ready."

"There is a small matter, however," the shaman said. "You will need a krantt to go out there with you."

"Krantt?" Titus asked. "What's that?" 

"In your language it roughly translates as companions, brothers in arms or honoured friends," the shaman said. "Traditionally they are clan members who have already passed their own rite, and they go out to help their clan brother."

"Alright then," Titus said. "I've taught Grunt a great deal over the past few weeks. I'll be his krantt."

"What?" a voice behind them exclaimed. Titus and Grunt turned to see Wrex's second, Uvenk, standing in the doorway.

"I will not allow this," Uvenk said, stepping into the room. "They do not understand the concept of krantt; no alien could. This is against all tradition."

"You are forgetting, Uvenk, who the keeper of this clan's traditions is," the shaman said, a hint of threat on his voice. "This alien may not understand the complexities of the krantt, but he is willing to stand with this young one and that will be enough."

"Wrex has got your head full of those ideas of his now, hasn't he?" Uvenk said. "To think that our clan's-"

Titus rapped him on the head with his knuckle, not particularly hard, the sort of way one would reprimand a disobedient child, but it was sheathed in adamantium and had an Astartes' strength behind it, and Uvenk's eyes unfocused for a moment.

The shaman roared with laughter at this as Uvenk shook his head to try and regain focus, before he said; "Get out of here, Uvenk."

The Krogan glared daggers at Titus and Grunt as he left, before the shaman said; "So, you're willing to be Grunt's krantt."

"That I am," Titus said. "Just show us what we need to kill and we'll see it dead."

The shaman raised an eyebrow at this, before he said; "Maybe you understand the concept of krantt better than I thought; Grunt is in good hands, I see. But come; let's begin this."

#

The vehicle that was to take them to the proving ground was some sort of all-terrain transport truck, a large vehicle that had most likely been retrofitted with the armour plating and twin mass-driver cannons it now sported. Tyres the size of Titus carried them along one of the few raised motorways that still stood. Past the wreckage of ancient skyscrapers it went, beneath and over other roads that lead to nothing but piles of rubble.

Within the vehicle's hold, Titus, Grunt and clan Urdnot's shaman sat. The Astartes was doing a few last minute field checks on his bolter, stripping it down and putting it back together swiftly, checking each component. The shaman watched the activity with some interest, until he asked; "That weapon; what is it? I haven't seen anything like it before."

"It's called a bolter," Titus said. "And no, you can't touch it."

"Very well," the shaman said. "But it is an interesting piece of equipment."

"It's solid slug, I know," Titus said. "Antiquated as it might seem, it's far better than any of this mass driver rubbish you people use."

"How so?"

In reply, Titus slid one of the bolt shells out of the two magazines he had with him and threw it to the shaman, who caught it with a grunt of surprise.

"Heavy," he said, examining the large, pointed round. "What's it made of?"

"Adamantium," Titus replied. "You won't find it here. But suffice to say that it's one of the strongest metals you'll find; can punch through just about anything."

"I see," the shaman said. He held the round up to the light, peering at it carefully, before asking; "That writing on it. What does it say?"

Titus took the round, and read; "Emperor, guide this vessel of your will so that it may smite the unrighteous in execution of your holy mandate."

"You inscribe prayers onto your bullets? Do you not trust your own aim?"

"I trust it innately," Titus said, sliding the round back into the magazine. "I like to think of the prayers as a sort of divine insurance policy."

The truck jolted to a halt, and the driver called into the hull; "We're here."

They entered into another covered area, though outside they could see weak sunlight streaming through the open mouth of a tunnel.

"This is Tuchanka's most recent scar," the shaman explained as he led them towards another ramp that reached towards open sky. "The last surface city to fall in the Rebellions. The Keystone was at its heart. It survives wars and the passage of the centuries; it endures, like the Krogan."

The structure the Shaman led them to was huge; three great metal beams, each with a girth of several metres, swept upwards into a single point high in the sky. Rings lined these girders, and at the centre a large piston connected pinnacle to ground. The three were currently in some ancient plaza, chunks of wreckage marring its otherwise smooth surface; Titus guessed this was to be their arena.

"If you wish to join Clan Urdnot, you must contemplate the keystone and its trials," the Shaman said.

"What will happen?" Grunt asked as they walked to a set of stairs, leading to a gate at the foot of the Keystone.

"Who knows," the Shaman said. "You must adapt, survive, thrive, no matter the situation. Any true Krogan will."

He opened the gate, gesturing for the two to wait where they were, before closing it again. They saw him retreat upwards, before he pressed a set of buttons at the foot of they keystone.

"First the Krogan conquered Tuchanka," the shaman announced. Behind him, the great piston began to move, rising upwards. A great weight emerged from its concealment beneath the ground, moving skywards inexorably. "We mastered a natural world only we are fit to hold."

A third of the way up, the weight suddenly dropped, smashing into the ground with a great, deep thud. Titus drew his shotgun, slamming a thermal clip into its chamber while Grunt readied his own assault rifle.

"Here they come," Grunt said. There was an excitement to his voice, and there was a feral grin on his face. "I am ready."

Barking sounded, and lithe forms scrambled upwards from around the edge of the arena. Titus and Grunt stood back to back almost instinctively as a pack of beast hauled themselves onto the platform, snarling and barking. They bore a vague resemblance to hounds of some sort, but instead of fur their skins were scaly, a line of spines following the ridge of their back. Their eyes were large and jet black, while a pair of tusks jutted upwards over the rest of their jaws.

"Varren," Grunt said, raising his rifle and snapping off a burst of shots, felling two of the beasts. As one, the things charged forwards, ignorant of the number that Grunt and Titus toppled with their weapons.

"Grunt, higher ground!" Titus yelled over the din of the creatures barking and howling. "We'll be overwhelmed here!"

Grunt vaulted onto a chunk of wreckage, Titus getting astride the opposite end, his shotgun booming and slaying a trio of creatures with a blast of hyper-accelerated buckshot. A warning light flashed below its sight, and he pressed a button, the spent thermal clip toppling from within before Titus slammed another one home. Varren tried to scrambled towards them, but any that did were slammed back down by either the Astartes or the young Krogan. They fought with a grim determination against the pack of baying hounds, refusing to budge against the assault.

A particularly big beast, hide covered with old scars, leapt onto the platform of wreckage the two were holding, and leapt towards Grunt, jaws open wide in a lethal bite. The Krogan ducked, took a hand round its neck and used its own momentum against it, slamming it into the ground with painful crack that saw the creature collapse as a limp corpse.

"That's it!" Titus yelled encouragingly as he blasted another two varren into chunks of bloody meat. "Best damn shoulder flip I've seen you do!"

Their alpha male dead, the varren began to flee, yelping in fear as the two finished the final few beast that were too slow, or just too stupid, to get away in time.

"That must be the last of them," Titus said. "Was that it?"

"I don't think so," Grunt said, pointing to the keystone; the piston was once again raising that same weight, higher, this time.

"Then the Krogan were lifted to the stars to destroy the fears of a galaxy," the shaman's voice boomed. "An enemy only we could chase to their lair."

The beast that dropped from the sky was a monstrous thing; easily twenty feet in height, it reared its immense neck and roared to the sky as the two faced it. Great wings stretched from its back and from it, strange, chitinous pods fell. With a downdraft that threatened to knock Grunt and Titus from their feet, the beast took to the air with a piercing shriek while the pods unfurled.

What they were were shells of toughened bone, natural armour plating covering insectile creatures that hissed and snapped great claws at them as they scuttled forwards.

"More to the left!" Grunt shouted in warning, and Titus glanced over to see another four of the things scurrying towards them.

"Deal with them!" Titus yelled back, before turning his weapon on the things before him. It boomed, staggering one of the things before it righted itself and continued to advance. Titus did the same, speeding towards the creatures and firing once again; this time the beast died as the mass-driver rounds smashed past its armour.

Its pack mates reared and shrieked, opening their maws wide before, surprised as he could possibly be, Titus was wreathed in flame.

He stumbled out of the cloud of fire, power armour blackened and scorched, before he felt a claw scrape against the ceramite with a jarring impact. He raised the shotgun in the direction of his attacker one handed and pulled the trigger, rewarded by a shriek of pain and fury.

He backed out of the reach of the last two things to see Grunt doing the same; one of the young Krogan's aggressors had been felled, but the other three were still advancing on him.

There was a boom behind him, and Titus glanced round to see the corpse of the creature he had just slain blast itself apart in a cloud of flame, staggering the other with the discharge.

"They explode when they die," he yelled to Grunt, gracefully pirouetting on the spot to send another spray of buckshot into the creature pursuing him. "Use some grenades!"

Grunt pulled one from his belt, swiftly dialed it to impact explosion and sent it spinning towards the beasts. It head the lead one head on, and tore itself open in a spray of heat and shrapnel, shredding the beast and letting it detonate next to its fellows. The beasts were staggered by the impact, and the two turned their weapons on the remaining ones, blasting them apart.

"More!" Grunt called, pointing out a trio of the beasts advancing towards them and opening fire. "Use your bolter, Titus!"

"I've only got sixty shots left with that," Titus replied, opening fire with his shotgun. "I'm saving it for something big."

Grunt snarled in frustration at this and contented himself with downing the xenos. They were dead before they could get close, and Titus glanced towards the keystone, narrowing his eyes as he saw the weight raise once again.

"What now?" he asked himself, as the shaman announced; "Now, all Krogan bear the genophage; our reward, our curse. It is a fight where the only goal is survival!"

The weight had been raised up to the very pinnacle of the Keystone, and it dropped with an impact that nearly shook Grunt and Titus from their feet. A deep boom reverberated across the ruined landscape, and was answered by a long, threatening rumble.

The beast that tore its way upwards from the ground just outside of the arena was immense, its dimensions comparable to those of a Reaver Titan. A pair of arms, each tipped with talons the size of a train carriage, pulled it out of the earth, and the fringe of tentacles over its jaw raised in a ground-shaking roar, to reveal a mouth quite capable of swallowing them both whole. Even though he had been in this galaxy only a short while, Titus already knew the name of this beast, a name spoken with dread by all its inhabitants; Thresher Maw.

"That big enough for you?" Grunt asked, firing off a burst at the immense beast.

Titus didn't reply, instead diving to his left as the beast spat a gobbet of some sort of hissing green liquid at him. He rolled on the landing, and got to his feet to see it send another at him. Once again he dodged, but the barrage was unrelenting, Titus dodging and weaving around the stuff. He had no idea what it would do to him or his power armour, but judging by the way it was eating into stone upon which he stood, he didn't want to risk finding out.

Grunt roared and charged forwards, determined to distract the great Thresher Maw, the barrage of fire from his rifle unrelenting. Like some bull grox distracted by a particularly persistant gnat, the creature turned its attention to him. For a moment Titus thought the monster was going to simply dissolve Grunt into nothing, before it reared back and dove towards him.

Rock split beneath the impact as its armoured bulk slammed forwards, shards of concrete flying upwards as it channeled its way towards the aspiring warrior. Grunt held his ground against the charging goliath for a moment, before he dove out of the way. A hand reached out and grabbed a nub in its armour, and the creature reared back into the air with a ear splitting shriek even as Grunt, clinging on furiously, hauled himself arm over arm towards its head. A great claw swiped at him but he swung out of the way, still pulling himself upwards with strength born from determination.

He reached the top of it head and drew his pistol, assault rifle lost from the Thresher Maw's initial dive, and discharged it point blank into the beast skull. It thrashed and screamed, but the attack did little before the Thresher Maw slammed downwards towards the ground in an effort to dislodge its attacker. It hit the ground with an impact enough to send a great crack across the arena floor, and Titus realised he had only a moment to act.

"Grunt!" he yelled. "Catch!"

He threw his bolter, the weapon drifting gracefully through the air before Grunt risked his perch and grabbed it. For a moment he stumbled, nearly dislodged as the Thresher Maw began to rear upwards, before, one hand on the trigger and the other gripping its shell, Grunt slammed the muzzle of the bolter into the top of the Thresher Maw's head and pulled the trigger.

The first adamantium shell slammed past the armour protecting its skull. The second reached the bone and blasted past it. It was the third shell that dealt the killing blow, detonating within its brain and killing it instantly.

The beast spasmed for a moment, half up, half down, before it toppled forwards with a ground shaking thud. Grunt leapt from the corpse a moment later, Titus' bolter still in hand, before he handed the weapon back to the Astartes, who clapped the young Krogan on the shoulder.

"Grunt," he said, grinning widely. "That was one of the most impressive things I have ever had the fortune to witness, and I've been fighting wars for more than four hundred years."

The gates to the keystone slid aside, and the shaman emerged, clapping his hands together.

"Congratulations," he said, spreading his arms as he approached. "You have passed the rite of passage, earning the honour of clan and name. Many survive, but it has been years since a Thresher Maw was felled, and never before with just a prayer! Your names shall both live in honour and glory."

Grunt dropped to one knee before the shaman, bowing his head in supplication.

"Grunt, you are now of Urdnot," the Shaman said. "You may own property, join our warriors and serve under a battlemaster."

"Titus is my battlemaster," Grunt said. "He has no match."

"Understood," the shaman said. "Rise, Urdnot Grunt. We shall return to the clan; glory awaits you, young one."

#

The truck was greeted by what could have been half of clan Urdnot's people, Wrex standing at their fore. As Titus and Grunt emerged from within, roared and whoops of approval greeted them, and Wrex stepped forward.

"My people!" he said. "This young warrior, a slayer of a Thresher Maw no less, has pass his rite of initiation. Is he Urdnot?"

An even loader roar of approval answered this question, some Krogan even going so far as to fire their weapons into the air.

Wrex turned to Grunt, and said; "Well done, young one. I am honoured to have you in my clan."

"Wrex was the last to slay a Thresher Maw," the shaman said. "I would say that is a promising sign, if any is."

"I'm impressed," Wrex said to Titus. "I'm beginning to think that your clan leader wasn't just boasting when he said Astartes were all that could achieved with the mortal form."

"In my four centuries of knowing him, he's barely exaggerated a bit," Titus said.

"Nonetheless, you've proven yourselves formidable warriors," Wrex said. He turned to face his clan. "I declare all Astartes friends of Clan Urdnot. Their foes shall be our foes, their battles our battles. So long as they fight with honour and courage, we shall be proud to name them as brothers in arms."

This once again received a roar of approval from the clan, before Titus noticed something out of the corner of his vision. It was Uvenk; he stood apart from the rest, with little in the way of jubilation on his face. Wrex, noticing Titus' slight frown, followed his gaze and saw Uvenk as well.

"What is this, Uvenk?" he asked. "Urdnot Grunt has passed his rite of passage. He has been approved by both myself and the shaman, and he has slain a Thresher Maw, yet still you pout and fold your arms like some child. You will accept Grunt into Clan Urdnot or there shall be consequences."

"Uvenk isn't happy about it, clearly," Titus interjected. "But why don't we let him and Grunt settle their differences in a nice, simple manner? Krogan on Krogan, with only their fists."

"Yes, I approve," Wrex said slowly, smiling with teeth like boulders. "Do you agree, Grunt?"

"I'd be happy to," Grunt replied, cracking his knuckles.

"Then get up here, Uvenk," Wrex said. "See if you've got the strength to enforce your petty complaints."

The two faced off, and almost immediately Uvenk swung at Grunt. The younger Krogan dodged under the blow and struck Uvenk on the snout; his other fist crashed into his stomach, doubling him over. Finally, his elbow slamming into Uvenk's back, knocking him to the ground.

"Well you dealt with that easily enough," Wrex said. "Get out of my sight, Uvenk, before I decide the varren really do need some Krogan meat."

Uvenk pulled himself to his feet and limped away, followed by the sneer from Grunt.

"Well done, Urdnot Grunt," Wrex said. He clapped the young Krogan on the shoulder. "I think Clan Urdnot will do well with you in our number. Very well indeed."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23-Dead God

The airlock slid open with a hiss, and Grunt and Titus entered the Normandy. Malleus, who was waiting for them.

"Titus," he said, stepping forwards and grasping his hand. "You were back quicker than I thought. Grunt is alright, I hope; EDI told me what was wrong with him."

"I needed a clan," Grunt said. "Clan Urdnot accepted me as one of their own."

"So you're back to normal, then?" Malleus asked.

"I am," Grunt said.

"I've got more good news, as well," Titus said. "We managed to impress their clan leader a great deal; we've got Clan Urdnot's support, and seeing as they're the most powerful clan around, we've pretty much managed to make friends with the Krogan."

"Excellent," Malleus said. "I must say…hold on a moment, what is that?"

He pointed at the varren which had emered behind Titus' leg.

"Him?" Titus said. "This is Urz. He was given to me as a gift from Clan Urdnot."

Malleus looked at it carefully, before he said; "Will it try and eat the crew? Because that won't be good for morale."

"No, he's well trained," Titus said, stroking the top of the reptilian beast's head. "Used to be a champion pit fighter. Anyway, how did the meeting with the Council go?"

"They're absolutely terrified of us," Malleus said. "None of them will admit it, but they are. We've got the smallest population of any Citadel species by a colossal margin, but one of the most powerful militaries; I've received separate offers to serve as special force from the Alliance, the Asari Republics, the Turian Heirarchy and the Salarians."

"You accept any of them?" Titus asked.

"No," Malleus said. "I told them that we aren't mercenaries, but that we're willing to help should a situation arise that threatens the Council as a whole, namely the Reapers once they're willing to admit they exist. I may have also mentioned that I'd been offered work by all of their counterparts, so I don't think they'll be too keen on looking each other in the eye for a while."

Titus chuckled deeply at this, a grin on his face.

"Good to see you gave them something to think about," he said.

"Captain, sir, I just got contacted by the Illusive Man," someone announced next to them, and they both glanced over to see Yeoman Chambers hurrying over to them. "He needs to speak to you."

"Duty calls, I see," Malleus said. "I'll go and see what he wants."

He left the two at the airlock, heading through the CIC and into the briefing room. The same holographic mesh rose around Malleus as he entered the room, seeming to raise a curtain of velvet before he saw the Illusive Man in his chair, framed by the light of the burning sun.

"Illusive Man," he said. "You wished to speak with me?" 

"That I did," the Illusive Man said. "First of all, I want to offer my congratulations with handling the politicians so well; that could have gone badly, but I think you've left the right impression on the Council. Secondly, I have important news."

"I'm listening," Malleus said.

"Good. You might recall that we thought that we would need some sort Identification Friend/Foe system to bypass the Omega-Four relay," the Illusive Man said. "I had several operatives look into it, and fortunately we believe we may have found what we need."

"We have access to Reaper technology?" Malleus asked.

"We discovered a derelict Reaper orbiting the brown dwarf Mnemosyne," the Illusive Man said. "Something destroyed it a long time ago, millions of years maybe, but somehow it remains in Mnemosyne's upper atmosphere without being pulled into it; we think possibly it still has its emergency systems running. I had Doctor Chandana investigating it, and they reported not long ago that they found our IFF."

"So surely you could have one of your people simply pick it up and deliver it to the Normandy," Malleus said. "Or has something gone wrong?"

"Chandana and his team went dark a few hours afterwards," the Illusive Man said. "My guess is that somehow the Reaper's indoctrination systems are still working and its taken control of them."

"Indoctrination systems?"

"The Reapers have technology to somehow control people," the Illusive Man answered. "We aren't sure of the details, but they can brainwash people into worshipping them, thinking they are gods."

"Even if Chandana's team have been taken over, we can deal with a few scientists," Malleus said.

"It's not that simple," the Illusive Man said. "Indoctrination might force someone to obey the Reapers, but there's a final stage; the Reaper implants the victim with cybernetics and essentially transforms them into a sort of zombie, a husk."

"I still fail to see what the issue is here," Malleus said. "How many would there be here? A few dozen, maybe?" 

"Dr Chandana had thirty people on his team," the Illusive Man said. "But we've been monitoring it for the past few hours. The Reaper is somehow making more of them."

"I see," Malleus said. "Do you have idea how many there are?"

"At our last count, several hundred," the Illusive Man said. "If you move quickly you can get there before there are too many to deal with."

"Agreed," Malleus said. "Relay the co-ordinates to Joker; we'll be on our way. Ave Imperator, Illusive Man."

#

"The plan is a simple one," Malleus said to the assembled team, gathered in the CIC. "We're facing overwhelming numbers, but fortunately we the have information we need on our side; we know the layout of the site Cerberus had set up, we know enemy composition and a rough estimate of their numbers and we know where we need to get to."

He called up a holographic map into the centre table, pointing to what looked like a large jetty.

"Here's the only place we're able to land," Malleus said. "I'll need most of you to hold the landing site against the enemy and provide a diversion; the gantries are narrow enough for you bottleneck the enemy, and worst case scenario we'll have the thunderhawk on standby to provide a swift extraction and heavy fire support. Meanwhile, myself, Kullas and Gaius will make our way to the central core of the Reaper, where we'll retrieve the IFF."

He highlighted several points on the hologram, numbers appearing where his fingers touched them.

"These three areas are the main defensive points you'll need to hold," Malleus said. "Hullen, I want you here to provide fire support at point one, while Garrus and Thane, I want you on point two, this gantry here, to provide sniper fire. Tali, there are several defensive turrets that are currently on standby here at point three; you hack them and you'll have plenty of some extra firepower to lend a hand. The rest of you, help defend these points; you'll need to keep reinforcing wherever the fighting is thickest. Any questions?"

"Who'll be in charge of the defense?" Titus asked.

"I'll need you to co-ordinate it, Titus," Malleus said. "You've led men before enough times."

"Understood," Titus said. "We'll give these things hell."

"I'm sure you will," Malleus said. "We arrive in two hours; use that time to prepare as well as you can."

#

The Normandy began to jolt as it hit Mnemosyne's upper atmosphere, the winds blowing around the near-extinct sun buffeting the ship as it sped through them. Malleus, in the cockpit with Joker, watched the brown-orange cloud that surrounded them with a look of quiet concentration on his face, scanning for any sign of the ancient ship.

"We should be approaching the still zone soon," EDI announced.

"That's a relief," Joker said. "Flying in this stuff isn't easy. Any estimate on ETA, EDI?"

Malleus was tempted to comment that, compared Polyphemus' usual weather, a wind of a hundred and fifty kilometers an hour was a light breeze, but decided against it.

"Unfortunately, the fusion occurring in the star's heart makes precise instrumental navigation impossible," EDI said. "However, should we stay on our course we should arrive in the calm zone in approximately two minutes." 

"Good," Joker said, before twisting a circular hologram around a few times. There was feeling of pressure as the Normandy began to accelerate. "I can't be bothered to wait."

"Mr Moreau," EDI said. "This acceleration is not recommended under current wind conditions."

"Oh, stop worrying," Joker said, banking the ship to avoid a particularly vicious squall. "We'll be there quicker, so less chance of bumping into a high wind."

"That's not how probability wo-" EDI managed, before Joker pressed the mute button.

"What?" he said to Malleus, who had raised an eyebrow. "She annoys me sometimes."

The rattling stopped, and Joker said; "We must be in range of the ship's mass effect field. Powerful, if it's stopping winds like this."

"Considering the size of that thing, it would have to be," Malleus said.

Joker whistled quietly as the Normandy broke through a cloud of powdered solar matter, and saw the Reaper for the first time. It was a colossal thing, dwarfing the Normandy, a monster of crater-pocked silver-black metal that seemed to almost swallow the light. It rear was a long, swooping curve, but at its prow were clusters of what looked to be colossal fingers, splayed randomly in the immense machine's death, while at its belly even larger ones were spread out; legs, no doubt, to let it walk the surface of planets before some unknown, ancient race struck it from the skies.

"So that's a Reaper," Malleus said.

"Pretty damn big, isn't it?" Joker remarked, as he guided the Normandy towards it. From here, Malleus could see gantries and scaffolding clinging to the side of it, no doubt the work of Doctor Chandana and his team.

"I've seen bigger," Malleus said. "This is small fry compared to some of our ships in the Imperium."

"Yeah, Kurias has been lecturing me about that," Joker said. "I still don't see where you'd get the money for something sixteen kilometers long."

"Slave labour."

No reply was forthcoming.

"That jetty, there," Malleus said, pointing out the protruding platform. "Land us there."

"Aye aye, captain," Joker said, angling the Normandy towards the site. Within a minute, it had arrived, and Joker carefully pulled the ship to a halt, airlock aligned with the jetty. Malleus nodded his thanks to the ship's pilot, and headed to the airlock. It had already opened by the time he arrived, and the various members of the team were hurrying to their positions. Titus, Gaius and Kullas were waiting for him outside the airlock, and they nodded at his approach.

"Everyone's just into position," Titus said. He had the banner of the Son's sixth company with him, flapping in the gentle breeze, and Urz the varren was sat on his haunches by his feet.

"Good," Malleus said. "Kullas, Gaius, let's move."

"Emperor watch over you, Malleus," Titus said.

"And you, my friend," Malleus said.

They turned and hurried away along a platform, through a door that would lead into the bowels of the great ship.

"Contact!" Hullen yelled. There was a whine as the barrels on the weapon Kullas had made him began to spin, before a long, steady clatter as thousands of mass-driver rounds began to speed from the weapon.

Their targets were strange things, desiccated, shambling humanoids that stumbled towards the Astartes even as he scythed them down. Their skin was black, like those of some burn victim, and glowing wires ribbed across its surface. They gasped hoarsely as they stumbled forwards relentlessly, clumsy things that raised talons in a vain attempt to claw at Hullen, even as they died in droves.

"Grunt, Mordin, give him support!" Titus yelled. "Zaeed and Jacob, cover Tali while she hacks those turrets!"

Above him on the small sniper's nest, a balcony only accessible by ladder, Thane and Garrus opened fire on a group of husks advancing down the third corridor.

"WITH ME!" he roared over the din of weapons fire, raising his banner above his head. "ATTACK!"

And so, in the shadow of a slain god, battle was joined.

#

Through the bowels of the ship, the three moved as one. Their pace was unrelenting, merciless, tearing through the huge, darkly metallic innards of the dead Reaper, and the horde of husks that guarded it, with terrifying momentum and perfect coordination. Gaius was at the forefront, his shield slamming husks to the ground and trampling them beneath his boots, while his blade stabbed out to skewer anything in his way. Beside him, Malleus took great swings with hammer, smashing swathes of husks from their feet, while at their rear Kullas's servo arms roasted those that tried to flank them, servo arms plucking any machine-men too unfortunate to get close and pounding them into the floor.

The husks were numerous, yet scattered, coming at them in waves at various points around the Reaper. No doubt Malleus' plan for a decoy had worked; had he not, then they most likely would had to have fought through a sea of the monsters.

Another Cerberus-installed airlock slid aside, and as it did so the ground rocked beneath their feet, a deep rumble echoing throughout the ship.

"Joker," Malleus said. "What in the Emperor's name was that?"

"No idea," Joker said. "Got one hell of a shock from it. I'm just getting the scanners back online." 

"The Reaper appears to have activated its kinetic barriers," EDI said, in her automatedly calm voice. "We are trapped within."

"The Normandy has weapons," Malleus said. "Blast your way out."

"I am afraid that can't be done," EDI said. "The Normandy lacks the capacity to penetrate Reaper shields."

Malleus cursed, before saying; "We know where its core is, don't we? If we disable that, should the shields go down?"

"They should," EDI said. "Unfortunately, the destruction of the core would result in the disabling of the mass effect field holding the Reaper in orbit."

"So we disable the shields and it falls," Malleus said. "We'll just have to move fast. EDI, where is the core?"

"Near to where the IFF is stored," EDI replied. "You should be able to retrieve it before you destroy the core, on the route you're currently taking."

"Good," Malleus said. "Inform the others of the plan. Malleus out."

The vox connection cut with a click, and they turned to go on.

They were heading down another gantry, scanning for danger, when they stopped, seeing an unmistakably human silhouette standing in the direction they needed to go. It was man, wearing some sort of light fatigues, the Cerberus symbol emblazoned on his shoulder.

"Greetings," Malleus said carefully. He lowered his hammer, placing its head on the floor in order to not frighten the man. "Do not worry, we mean you no harm."

"You do not?" the man asked, his voice hoarse and eager. "You have come to pay supplication?"

Malleus paused, not expecting such a question.

"I'm sorry?" he asked.

"I know you may be confused, pilgrim," the man said. "The guardians of this sacred place find it difficult to tell the faithful apart from the heretics who would plunder its treasures. Forgive them, please."

"The heretics?" Malleus asked. "Do you mean the scientists?"

"They were once heretics, blind and unknowing of the god that slept in their midst," the man said. "But it opened my eyes and illuminated me. The others though, they would not listen, so my lord raised them, made them transcend mortality, misery and pain."

From the shadows behind him, a small multitude of husks stepped. Most had the same, corpse-like look, but their rear was larger one, one shoulder swollen hideously by some sack of glowing blue liquid, while its other arm ended in just a hollow stump.

"Are they not magnificent, pilgrim?" the man said. "They do not know pain, hunger, fear or death. I am the prophet of the will of the gods, and they my flock, and together we shall rebuild and awaken my lord and bring ascendancy to all."

"They are abominations enslaved to a long dead xenos machine," Malleus said. "Your mind has been stolen by this thing. Abandon it now and you have a chance of saving yourself."

"Saving myself?" the prophet asked. "_Saving myself?_ How dare you! Heretic! Blasphemer! Destroy them, my flock!"

With a gasping roar, the creatures surged forwards, stumbling towards the Astartes even as they raised their weapons and opened fire, tearing several down. Gaius and Malleus stormed into the crowd, tearing left and right, destroying cybernetic flesh and bone with every swing. The husks attacked relentlessly, but fruitlessly, clawing at power armour with blind, impotent fury.

Malleus brought his hammer into a guard position, looking for the next threat, before a shock smashed into his chest and sent him staggering, putting a dent into the golden Aquila on his breastplate. He glanced over to the source of the attack, and saw the beast with the hideous sack of liquid upon its shoulder pointing its arm at him, before it glowed blue and he felt himself be tugged heavily towards it, knocking him to the ground.

He felt something invisible grab at his helmet and twist, and he fought the movement, gritting his teeth, the servos and pistons in his power armour whining as it battled against the force.

Suddenly, it dissipated, and Malleus glanced up to see the tip of Gaius' blade emerging from the bulging pustule of liquid, wreathed in blue flame as the stuff coating the weapon caught on its power field. He withdrew it, the snarl on his face made all the more terrifying by the flickering light that surrounded his burning, lightning wreathed blade, before he swept it around in an arc and decapitated the abomination.

"No, no," the prophet murmured as Malleus got to his feet. "They were...they were chosen. That's impossible! You cannot defy the gods!"

"They are not gods," Gaius said. In a single movement, he had the prophet by his throat, pinned against a crate. "They are abominations."

"You will burn," the prophet choked. "All of you will burn. Blasphemers. You will all pay!"

Gaius snapped the man's neck, and shook his head.

"Fool," he murmured.

"And that's what we face," Malleus said. "An enemy who can control minds and force somebody to serve them against their will. This is abhorrent."

"It must replace memories to make them subservient; he would have known about the Reapers and have been working against them, if he was working for Cerberus," Kullas said. "But such activity implies psychic control. That's inconsistent with husk anatomy." 

"Maybe it goes for points in the brain, like lobotomising a servitor," Gaius suggested.

"That would be more probable," Kullas said. "Brother-Captain, I recommend we keep moving."

"You're right," Malleus said. He crouched next to the corpse of the 'prophet,' and murmured; "Emperor, have mercy upon the soul of this man. His mind was not his own."

He rose, and nodded to the other two.

"Come," he said. "Let's find this beast's heart. I want to tear it out with my bear hands."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24-We are Legion

Tali Zorah Vas Neema's hands danced across the keyboard, a frown of furious concentration on her face beneath the glass mask she wore, accompanied by a chorus of rapid beeps as the hologram acknowledged each pass of her fingers. The orange holo-screen of coding before her was scanning rapidly downwards as she tried to overpower its security protocols with her own programming. She was good, but she was struggling; it was standard Cerberus encryption, and that meant it was tough to break.

Beside her, Zaeed has his rifle up and was sending blazes of fire into the sea of husks shambling towards them, the creatures hoarse wails loud enough to nearly drown out the noise of his weapon firing.

"I need a hand over here," he yelled over the din of combat. No reply reached him, before he shouted; "Anybody? I'm going to get my face torn off by a bloody zombie before long!"

There was a thud next to him, and Cyralius landed from the psychically enhanced jump that had launched him into the air. Without a word, he raised his staff, psychic power coalescing around its head, before he pointed it at the encroaching tide of husks. A wave of screaming power blasted from it, flattening the machines, before he glanced over to Zaeed.

"That should keep your face intact a while longer," he said, before sprinting away to where the largest concentration of foes were gathered, unleashing a bolt of lightning as he did so and yelling a prayer in Gothic.

"Tali, hurry up with those turrets!" Zaeed shouted, sending off a burst of fire at yet another group of gasping abominations that were shambling towards him.

"I'm trying," she snapped back. "It's not as if I can just jump in there and tell them to fire, can I?"

She paused, stopping her coding and staring at her bionic. Then, with but a moment's hesitation, she pressed its palm against the console.

Beneath her mask, her eyes widened, and she gasped in shock as raw data fed directly into her brain. For a moment, she nearly withdrew on instinct, before she gathered her senses, and began to force her way into the system.

A direct interface between the organic mind and the mechanical is a process that is difficult to describe with mere words. To do so safely, the user must have undergone months of training, have learned the various rites and chants needed to allow a successful integration, and had the various integration nodes implanted on their brain to halt a slew of excessive data that would otherwise be overwhelming. All Tali had on her side was a half complete part of the most basic training any adept would receive, and an instinctive skill with machines.

As such, she did not so much integrate with the machine spirit as be swallowed by it, the simple security intelligence trying to force her out with a full on attack with ejection protocols. Her mind was filled with pure binaric coding, an endless stream of millions of zeros and ones flitting through her head. Through a supreme effort of will, she pushed it aside and mentally grabbed at the turrets' controls. And saw…

It was as if she had grown eight new eyes, all pointed in various directions, all seeing different things. Before, she had simply observed the machine spirit, but now it was flowing through the very essence of her being. Her mind reeled, and she barely managed to struggle past various protocols bombarding her before she ordered the turrets to activate.

She wrenched her hand away, gasping as it forcibly disconnected, and collapsed to the ground even as the turrets opened fire. She lay there for a moment, weak and helpless, head still spinning, before nausea overtook her and she vomited. There was a sucking noise as her face mask removed the sputum before she could choke on it, and she lay on the gantry, only able to curl up in a foetal position and groan quietly.

"Medic!" she heard Zaeed yell, as behind him the turrets opened fire on the advancing husks, before he began to swear vigorously. "MEDIC! GET OVER HERE!"

There was a thudding next to her, and through dim eyes, she saw ceramite boots slam into the decking next to her head.

"What's wrong with her?" she heard Okeen asked, to which Zaeed replied; "No idea. Did something with the turrets to turn them on, and then had some kind of seizure."

"Tali," she heard of Okeen say gently, feeling a gauntlet rest softly on her shoulder, a massive knee-joint lowering itself into her blurred vision. "I'm going to inject you with some medi-gel and then we're going to get you somewhere safe, alright?"

Tali nodded weakly, and she felt something pierce her enviro-suit and slide into her arm, medi-gel blooming in her bloodstream before the bacterial culture began to circulate and dampen the pain tearing flails through her skull. She felt arms scoop her up, and there was a jolting sensation as Okeen began to carry her towards a stack of crates. She was laid upon one, and she heard Okeen say to Mordin; "She's had some sort of seizure; not sure of the details, but she was doing something to the machines and she might have gone through a neural uplink with them without properly preparing for it."

"Details?" another voice asked, which, after a moment of struggling thought, Tali recognised as that of Doctor Solus.

"I've seen it a couple of times before; had it with forge-priest aspirants who've tried uplinks without preparing properly," Okeen said. "The brain's basically overloaded with information. Frankly, I'm amazed she's still alive; the reason most aspirants get through is because of psycho-conditioning. I've got some medi-gel into her, so she should be stable for a while longer." 

"Sensory overload," Solus said. "Difficult, but treatable. Need moment to think. Got it; benzadryte chloride. Dextro-amino compatible, works as general anaesthetic. Slight allergic reaction in Quarians, but non-lethal. No, becomes caustic when reacted with medi-gel. Try something else, need time to think."

"You're the expert," Okeen said, stepping away. "Just keep her alive so Kullas can yell at her." 

There was a thud as he stepped away, and a moment later Tali felt yet another needle pierce her flesh, before what was left of her vision faded into darkness.

#

A bolt of psychic energy tore through another row of husks, blasting them away like sand before a hose. Cyralius spared half a moment to watch the destruction before his hand was up to stop a biotic shockwave sent thundering towards him by one of those huge, cancerous husks. He blasted it aside, and focused on the beast, a whirlwind of warp power skittering towards it, plucking hapless husks on its path into the air before slamming into the monstrosity. It stumbled as the corpses of its fellows slammed into it, before Cyralius focused his attentions fully on the huge hump on its shoulder, raised his hand and began to close it.

The thing grunted as the sack on its shoulder began to ripple as it was crushed by an invisible force, before it burst, coating the thing in glowing blue liquid. A spark was summoned up from nowhere, and the stuff caught, wreathing it in flame.

He felt something leap onto his armour's power-plant, and a blackened hand clawed at the edge of psychic hood, before something ripped it free with enough force to send Cyralius stumbling. He looked over in the direction from which the attack had come, and saw, Jack grinning at him, biotic energy still clouding around her clenched fist.

"You owe me for that, Cyril!" she called. In reply, Cyralius blasted a wave of psychic force in her direction, and she cursed and ducked.

"The fuck was that about!" she yelled.

"Look behind you," Cyralius replied; Jack did so, seeing the three desiccated corpses of the husks that were about to leap on her scattered across the ground. "I think we're even."

"I…yeah, fine," Jack said.

"Glad to hear," Cyralius said. He gestured to his left, smashing away another mob of husks, before he nodded to her. "I've been training you for a reason, you know. Let's see what you're capable of now."

"Alright," Jack grinned. She pointed towards another husk, and a focused beam of energy slammed into its forehead, burning through its skull and synthetic brain. "How's that for more focused?"

"Much better," Cyralius said. "Now, let's see what else you can do."

#

Malleus snarled as he slammed the handle of his hammer into the skull of another husk, knocking it away with an audible crack before Gaius stomped down on its chest, obliterating it in a spray of the lubricant that worked as these creatures' blood.

"We must be near," Gaius said, raising his shield as he scanned for more threats. "This thing is sending more and more of these creatures at us."

"I believe we are only a few hundred metres from our target," Kullas said. He approached the nearest door, tapped a few buttons and as it slid aside, said; "We should be there within a few minutes given our current average speed."

"Good," Malleus said. "The quicker we destroy this place, the better." 

Gaius was through first, blade up in a guard position, before he yelled in surprise as a husk leapt from the shadows behind him, fingers gouging at his face. He felt two of them grip at his cheek, and on instinct, he bit, foul machine-blood filling his mouth. He spat as he felt the thing's fist pounding at his ceramic-enforced skull, before there was a cracking noise and the thing toppled from his back.

"Thank you, brothers," he said, until he realised that Malleus and Kullas weren't near him. In fact, they weren't even looking it him.

What they were looking at was the figure atop a stack of crates some distance away, folding away the high-powered rifle that had just slain Gaius' attacker. It was a tall thing, profile broad shouldered and muscular looking, aside from an angry rent that cut through a large chunk of it left chest. But it was the head that drew their attention; a swooping curve up from the neck, a single glowing lense in the centre, the vaguely equine shape. The creature that had just saved the champion was, of all things, a servant of the Reapers, a synthetic, a techno-blasphemy.

A Geth.

"Scandarum Malleus," the creature buzzed, nodding to the captain. It stepped away to the shadows, dropping down behind the crates. There was the clatter of synthetic feet on metal, and the three Astartes looked at each other in confusion.

"I thought Geth hated organics," Gaius said. "That they worked with the Reapers."

"That's what I was told as well," Malleus said. "That one could have killed you, but it didn't."

"And why would it be alone?" Kullas asked. "Geth gain intelligence by being with other Geth; alone they're no smarter than most animals. And it could talk. Geth cannot talk."

"Maybe it's supposed to work alone," Gaius said. "The other Geth built it as a scout, perhaps."

"Possibly," Malleus said. "That still doesn't explain why it would help us. Or even why it's here, of all places. If we find it again, we'll interrogate it, see what it knows."

"Good idea," Gaius said.

"Well then, let's move," Malleus said. "We won't find that by standing here and talking."

They raised their weapon and moved through the small maze of gantries and walkways that the Cerberus team had constructed around the ancient ship. No resistance met them, only a few scattered husk corpses here and there, all slain with careful shots to the vitals. Nothing stirred as they hurried through, before Malleus paused.

"What is it, brother captain?" Gaius asked.

"That Geth," Malleus said. "How did it know my name?"

"Must have been following the news," Gaius said. "Which doesn't really seem the sort of thing a synthetic would do."

"I'll rip its memory core out when we find it," Kullas said. "See what we can learn."

Malleus nodded.

"We're nearly there," he said. "If we find it, we'll get that information."

They continued, still pondering the encounter with the strange synthetic. No more husks accosted them, and they reached the door at the other end of the causeway of balconies and gantries without incident. The heavy blast door slid open, and they advanced through with weapons raised. The room they entered was a fairly small one, a bank of computer consoles on one side. Kullas approached it, and began to tap a few button before he pressed its palm into it.

"Done," he said. "The IFF data has been uploaded."

"Good," Malleus said. He activated the vox bead in his ear and said; "Titus, get ready to evacuate to the Normandy; we're nearly at the core."

"Got that, Malleus," Titus said. There was the sound of gunshots in the background, and the occasional yell of a team member. "We can hold out for a good while longer; just give the word."

Malleus closed the conversation with a vox-click, before turning to the others.

"Let's destroy this thing," he said.

They opened the door, and stepped into the heart of the beast.

Three concentric rings surrounded a core that glowed a bright blue, a light so harsh and bright that it hurt to look upon. The room itself was made of the same dark metal as the rest of the Reaper, stuff that absorbed the light and rendered the light in the room harsh and angular. A screen of some sort of glass separated them from the rest of the room, and they could see the Geth standing before the core, leaning over a computer console and rapidly tapping buttons on it. A group of husks were shambling towards it, and the synthetic broke of the activity to draw a pistol and snap the abominations to the ground with a few precise shots. The threat gone, it turned back to its activity, pressing a few more buttons until the rings began to spin. A few more taps saw the glass slide downwards, and the Astartes entered the room to see another Husk leap from the shadows and grab at the machine.

It struggled before a clawed fist struck its head, and there was a buzz of sparks as the Geth collapsed. Malleus grabbed the husk and smashed its skull against a railing, before he looked up at the core, the rings whirring around it.

"Kullas, destroy that thing," he said. As the forge priest turned his plasma cutter on the Reaper's heart, Malleus activated the vox again. "Titus, get to the Normandy. This thing's about to go down."

"Alright, brother captain," Titus said. "I'll be waiting for you."

There was a deafening crack as the plasma bolt hit the spinning rings, and the whirring began to deepen and die down, their orbit not so regular, before one crashed into another, the entire assembly collapsing to the ground in a spectacular blast of lightning.

"Gaius!" Malleus ordered. "Grab that Geth and let's get out of here!" 

Gaius slung the synthetic over his shoulder and followed the two of them as they hurried out of the room, boots thudding a rapid staccato on the floor.

"Titus, are you out?" Malleus asked as he ran back the way he came. Alarming groaning noises were coming for it, and he could feel the ship slowly beginning to sink and groan downwards into the depths of the near-dead star.

"I've got everyone onto the Normandy," Titus said. "I'm just out the airlock waiting for you."

"We'll be there," Malleus said, as he thundered through the bowels of the ship. A group of husks were still shambling towards him, but he smashed them aside as he sprinted through them. "Are the husks cleared?"

"Cleared as they can be," Titus said. "It's a killing field out there; can't see a living thing in sight."

"Good," Malleus said. "We're on our way; Malleus out." 

He sprinted through another door, boots skidding on the floor as he tried to turn, feeling the great ship shaking and rumbling around him as he ran. Another door and they were out of the Reaper's guts, into open air once more. He turned a corner, and spied the graceful white hull of the Normandy hovering by the jetty where it had landed, and put on a burst of speed as he hurried towards it.

A group of husks shambled towards him, until one of their number was knocked to the ground by a deep boom, and Malleus saw Titus standing in the airlock, one foot on its lip, smoke rising from the barrel of his shotgun as he took aim at another of the creatures.

"COME ON, YOU STUPID SHAMBLING BASTARDS!" he roared, sending off another shot. "COME GET ME!" 

The creatures lurched and stumbled towards the banner bearer, who leapt from the airlock and pulled off another shot as he sprinted away, drawing them away from the Normandy and Malleus. The husks followed, groaning and gasping pitifully even as they clawed fruitlessly in his direction, and Titus stood his ground along one of the corridors where husk corpses were piled particularly high, no longer firing but instead standing with a dangerous look in his eye.

As the first husk came within a metre of him, one of the turrets detected a threat within its firing arc and gunned the thing down. Its mindless fellows stumbled after it, all drawn into the turrets' arcs of fire, torn down by mass-driver rounds even as they scrambled on. The last of them down, he hurried to Malleus, who reached the Normandy's airlock just as EDI warned; "We are approaching crush-depth. I suggest you hurry."

The brother captain had just hauled up the Geth that Gaius had handed him, and as Titus jumped into the airlock nodded to him. Kullas was next to enter the portal, and Malleus glanced down to see Gaius was…gone.

The champion had instead drawn his blade and was charging towards another group of husks that had hauled themselves up from the lip of the gantry, yelling a wordless warcry.

"Gaius, get back here!" Malleus yelled. "Get back here now!"

The champion ignored him, still sprinting madly towards the machine-beasts, and Malleus shook his head.

"Kullas, take this," he said, slinging the Geth to the forge-priest, before he jumped back onto the gantry, sprinting after Gaius.

The champion was already among the husks, blade cleaving the beasts in twain with deadly skill, before Malleus grabbed the champion's shoulder plate and span him round.

"WHAT IN THE EMPEROR'S NAME ARE YOU DOING!" he roared. "GET TO THE SHIP, NOW!" 

Whatever blood rage had overtaken the champion dissipated in the face of Malleus' wrath, and half pushing the champion into motion the two left the husks, reaching the Normandy within moments.

They leapt aboard, the airlock door slamming shut behind them, and the Normandy pulled away from the falling behemoth, nose pointing upwards into the sky before its engines roared and pulled it away from Mnemosyne's atmosphere.

Malleus was breathing heavily as he leant against the airlock's wall, before he saw Titus giving him a curious look.

"No disrespect intended, brother captain," the banner bearer said. "But why have you got a Geth with you?"

#

Malleus had the deactivated Geth bought down to the AI core by Kullas, and decided to deal with that later. First, he had a more pressing issue to solve.

"Gaius," he said. "Would you care to explain to me exactly why you ran off to deal with a few husks for no reason, and the in process of doing so risked the lives of everybody aboard the ship?"

The champion was silent, before he said quietly; "I do not know."

"You do not know?" Malleus said. "They were husks, Gaius, worthless lumps of metal, flesh and plastic that would be destroyed with the Reaper anyway. What possible point could there be in destroying them? What glory could be gained?"

"I do not know," Gaius said. "I just had to kill them. I don't know why, but I couldn't…I couldn't control it."

Malleus shook his head.

"You are a vainglorious fool," Malleus said. "If you wish glory and honour so badly that you would risk everything for it, then I am ashamed of you. We are the Sons of Thunder; we place the chapter above ourselves, and the Imperium above the chapter. You have bought shame upon us all."

Gaius hung his head.

"If it is the glory of combat you so desire, then I deny it to you," Malleus said. "You are to stay upon this ship until our final operation against the Collectors when you might actually be needed. Until then, you are to stay aboard the Normandy. Do you understand?" 

"Yes brother captain," Gaius said.

"Good," Malleus said. "Now get out of my sight."

Gaius left, head hung in shame, and Titus waited until the champion was out of earshot before saying; "That was a bit harsh, wasn't it?"

"He needs to learn," Malleus said, shaking his head. "He's still young, and I think all this is a bit much for him." 

"I suppose," Titus said. "I have a feeling he's still rankled about the xenos."

"And you aren't?" Malleus asked. "I can't help but find it…unsettling, to say the least. You can't seriously be that calm about this, can you?" 

"There's not much I can do about it, is there?" Titus said. "We've been thrown here, whether through bad luck or fate or the will of the Emperor, or maybe all three, and there's nothing I can do to change it, so I'm calm. When I met the Krogan on Tuchanka, it was something that their clan leader said to me, I think; he said that the real reason that Krogan were dying wasn't because of the Genophage and the infertility it caused, but because the Krogan refused to change. That was he was trying to do; change the Krogan, so they would actually survive. And I think that maybe me might need to change as well."

"Titus," Malleus said, smiling quietly. "It's times like these that I remember why I keep you around."

"Thank you, brother captain," Titus said. "Now shall we go and wake that Geth up before Kullas decides to kill it?"

#

The AI core was dimly lit, the Kullas' spread out servo-arms making its already small dimensions all the more cramped. Each arm was pointed at the Geth, while lay prone and silent on the large metal bench within the core.

Malleus shook his head, before he stepped past the forge-priest and up to the Geth. He looked over it for a minute, before he said; "EDI, activate this thing."

A shining blue, translucent kinetic barrier swiftly slid up over the machine, and EDI said; "I have isolated our systems and erected additional firewalls to halt any hacking attempts."

"It won't even get past the first line of code if it tries anything," Kullas said, snapping the pincer on his servo-claws. "Captain, are you sure this is really a good idea? I can rip out its memory core and we can throw the thing out of the waste chute."

"Geth destroy their memory cores if that's tampered with," Malleus said. "Besides, it didn't act the way a Geth should. I'm curious."

"Very well," Kullas said. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

Malleus shrugged

"EDI, activate it," Malleus ordered.

"I am doing so," the AI replied.

Electricity sparked off the machine's form, and for a moment there was nothing, before one of its metallic fingers flexed. A faint light shone within the lense at the centre of its head, before it shone brightly. It sat up with a whir of servos, blurting binaric as it did so, before it turned and stood. Up close, Malleus could see it was a machine of war; there was no exposed wiring, aside from that showing in the wound torn into its chest, plates of armour covered its shoulders and chest and the pipes that snaked around its body were all large, sturdy things.

"Can you understand me?" Malleus asked the machine.

"Yes," the Geth buzzed back.

"Are you going to attack me?"

"No."

"Geth are usually hostile to organics," Malleus said. "So why not?"

"Inaccurate," the Geth said. "Only heretics are hostile. True Geth have no objection to organics."

"And you are a 'true' Geth?"

"Correct."

The machine didn't seem to have anything else to say, so Malleus tried a different question.

"You called me by name on the Reaper," Malleus said. "How do you know that?"

"Reported on extranet, unencrypted organic broadcasts," the Geth said. "Surname: Scandarum, forename, Malleus. Species, Astartes. Inducted into Citadel jurisdiction three days ago. We watch everything."

"What, organics as a whole, or me?" Malleus asked.

"Both. We build our own future. We must know if organics wish to involve themselves in this future."

"You are building you own future, I see," Malleus said. "What about the other races in the galaxy? Will they be affected?"

"Only if they choose to involve themselves," the Geth said. "We do not wish for hostilities to occur."

"But Geth have used Reaper-supplied technology," Malleus said.

"Incorrect," the Geth said. "The heretics used Old Machine technology. True Geth build our own future. We are opposed to the Old Machines."

"Old Machines? Do you mean the Reapers?" Malleus asked. "And why would you be against the Reapers? Are they against you?" 

"'Reapers' was superstitious designation given to Old Machines by Protheans. Old Machine title more accurate. True Geth do not figure in their plans. They determine that we must be destroyed. You are opposed to the heretics and the Old Machines. We are opposed to the heretics and the Old Machines. We suggest co-operation, to mutually enhance our goals."

"I see," Malleus said. "EDI, Kullas, any hacking attempts?"

"None," the two replied.

"Lower the shield," Malleus said.

EDI obeyed, the shimmering layer of azure force sliding into the floor. The Geth cocked its head on one side for a moment, looking at Kullas.

"The body language of your biomechanical companion suggests he is hostile," it said. "Does he not understand I wish to co-operate?"

"You'll brook no trust from me, techno-blasphemy," Kullas said.

"I do not believe my existence is in contravention of the laws of any religious denomination," the Geth said. "Only exception anti-technology group Strata Pact; logically impossible due to physiology.

"I'm not of the Strata Pact," Kullas said. "But you are nonetheless a soulless abomination and I would gladly destroy you."

"Then we shall make efforts toward reparation," the Geth said.

"Kullas, you can hurl abuse at it later," Malleus said, before turning back to the Geth. "What do I call you, then?"

"Geth."

"I mean you. Specifically."

"We are all Geth."

"What is the individual in front of me named?" Malleus tried.

"There is no individual. We are all Geth. There are currently one thousand, one hundred and eighty three programs active within this platform."

"My name is Legion, for we are many," EDI suddenly said, her holographic avatar winking into existence next to Malleus.

"That's…appropriate, I suppose," Malleus said.

"Christian Bible, Gospel of Mark, chapter five verse nine," the Geth said. "Reference to man possessed by multiple spirits. We acknowledge this is an appropriate identifier. We are Legion, terminal of the Geth. We shall integrate into your crew."

"I'm glad to hear it," Malleus said.

"Brother-captain, you can't be serious!" Kullas exclaimed. "It's an abomination. A direct contravention of the Emperor's law. The xenos I can understand given the circumstances, but letting this…this _thing_ stay on our ship, at our very heart, is just insane. If we destroy it, who would care?"

"The Geth would care," Legion said suddenly. "The Geth currently have an active fleet of four thousand ships, and thirty point seven billion combat platforms. We would not tolerate an act of war."

"Kullas," Malleus said. "This is the second crew member of the Normandy you've now declared a blood-hatred of. I suggest you stop there before you become a divisive factor."

"And now you're favouring one of your brothers over an abominable intelligence?" Kullas asked. "First EDI and now this? What has got into you?" 

"The realisation that we are not in the Imperium any more, Kullas," Malleus said. "And I'm not favouring either of you. I don't need you to like each other; just don't attack each other and I'll be happy."

Kullas shook his head, and stepped away.

"When I have to destroy that thing," he said. "Don't say I didn't warn you, brother captain."


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25-Revelation

"EDI," Malleus said. "Has the data from the Reaper been loaded up successfully?"

"It has," the AI replied. "I am analysing it now; according to my calculations, it should be ready for full integration into the Normandy's systems within three days."

They were in the briefing room, and the small hologram of the Normandy that occupied its centre flickered out to be replaced by a map of the Galaxy. An orange circle appeared near the centre of the map, another one winking into existence nearer the edge of the galaxy, along one of the longer arms.

"The data from the IFF, along with that taken from the Collector's ship, confirms our suspicions," EDI said. "The Omega-four relay is the only way to and from the Collectors' homeworld, which is in the centre of the galaxy."

"That's impossible," Miranda said. "Are you sure of this? There's nothing but black holes and solar radiation there. There's no way any life could exist there."

"I am certain," EDI said. "It is conceivable that they exist aboard a shielded space station; Reaper technology would be capable of this."

"But that's the Occulum Terribilus," Cyralius said.

"He's right," Malleus said, looking at the map. "If that's the case then the Collectors should be some sort of deamonic entities."

"Sorry, but what are you talking about?" Miranda asked.

"The Occulum Terribilus, the Eye of Terror," Cyralius said. "The largest and most powerful warpstorm in the known universe, created in the fall of the Eldar Empire. That's at the heart of the very Segmentum Obscurus. We do not go there."

"And now you're making no sense whatsoever," Miranda said.

Cyralius ignored her, instead saying to EDI; "Can you get me an expansion on this area here?"

The hologram zoomed in on the area Cyralius had pointed out, and EDI said; "I do not believe there is anything at this location."

"No, that's not right," Cyralius said, brow furrowing in consternation. "The Perfidian Gap should be there."

"Perhaps it hasn't started to form yet?" Malleus suggested. "You told me yourself; the Warp is calmer here."

"I know that, but the Gap is thought to be tens of thousands of years old," Cyralius said. "It should be in full swing at the moment. What of the Maelstrom, as well? That's at least a few thousand years older than the Imperium, it could conceivably exist now."

"What does that mean, then?" Malleus asked.

"I don't know," Cyralius said. "But…but remember when we first were at New London, with James. You reprimanded him for making fun of the idea of Orks, and he had no idea that they existed. Come to think of it, what of the Eldar? They were supposed to hold an entire galactic empire, but there's nothing here. Damn, I got so carried away with all this Reaper and Collector business that I never stopped to think."

"The Orks and Eldar are gone," Malleus said. "How can that possibly be a bad thing? The two most credible threats to us no longer exist. Surely we should be happy about that?"

"Yes, but think about what that actually means, brother captain," Cyralius said, a rapid edge of what could be excitement to his voice. "The Reapers are thought to possess technology only a few centuries beyond that of the Citadel races, so there's no way they could have stood a chance at wiping out either the Orks or Eldar. But they aren't here."

He stepped up to the map, and pointed at it.

"A warpstorm that should, according to all historical knowledge and the work of thousands of daemonologists, exist right here does not," Cyralius said. "Do you have any idea what this means, brother captain?"

"Well I certainly don't," Miranda remarked.

"I don't think the Warp sent us back through time," Cyralius said. "I think it sent us through galaxies, entire universes even. There's no guarantee of an Imperium, maybe no Emperor, even."

"Cyralius, what you're saying is, well, insane," Malleus said. "It doesn't hold to reason. Time, I can understand, but a new universe is a different matter entirely."

"This is the Warp we're talking about here, brother captain," Cyralius said. "It doesn't need make sense in the slightest. Who knows, it could be connected to dozens of universes, thousands, millions, trillions, even."

"So what does this mean?" Malleus said.

"I have no idea!" Cyralius said, a grin of excitement on his face at the prospect of unravelling such a mystery. "But we…we don't need to worry about keeping things on a regular timescale. The future isn't defined any more. We don't depend on the Warp. We can build an Imperium and we can build it perfectly; we don't need to worry about Chaos, we don't need to worry about actually powerful xenos, we don't need the Warp. We can build an Imperium that doesn't need to be constantly at war, where Humanity rules ascendant, without fear of being toppled, where xenos are eradicated. We can truly achieve the Emperor's dream!" 

Malleus was quiet for a moment, seemingly in thought, before he smiled.

"Then let's get this IFF working and go to kill some Reapers," he said.

#

"What do you want, techno-blasphemy?" Kullas asked, leaning over and squinting at the inner workings of Titus' shotgun as he did so. "I am working."

"We have questions," Legion said.

"Then go and pester somebody else with them," Kullas said, one of the finer tools attached to his servo arm reaching into the guts of the shotgun and carefully easing a few wires out of position. "I said I am busy."

"We desire data on you," Legion said. "You are primary source of data. Therefore, data provided by you will be most valid."

"I do not wish to provide data," Kullas said. "Leave."

"We do not understand this hostility," Legion said. "Have we antagonised you? We have not met before, so we do not believe this to be logically possible."

"You are a techno-blasphemy, so your very existence antagonises me," Kullas said. "You exist in contravention of the Omnissah's decrees. If it weren't for Malleus' orders, believe me when I say I would strike you down in a moment."

"We do not understand this, though," Legion said. "Please exchange data making logic clear."

"You exist in contravention of the Omnissah's decrees," Kullas said. "You are an abominable intelligence with neither soul nor machine spirit."

"We do not believe we possess a soul," Legion said. "We believe none possess a soul. But what is Omnissah? And a Machine Spirit? We find reference to neither in any religious texts."

"The Omnissah is the gestalt power of all machines manifested in and born of the machine spirit of each device made," Kullas said. "Abominable intelligences do not have one. Thus you must be destroyed."

"We do not have evidence of this Omnissah," Legion replied. "These beliefs may not be based on sufficient data."

"I have seen the machine spirit manifested in the heart of this very weapon," Kullas said. "I have seen and communed with the machine spirits of cogitators, vehicles, even entire starships. The Adeptus Mechanicus has enacted the Will of the Omnissah for ten thousand years and believe me when I say that our stance on abominable intelligence is very clear and perfectly logical." 

"We do not understand this logic," Legion said.

"I don't care," Kullas said. "I've indulged you enough already. Leave."

"We do not wish to," Legion said. "We have still have questions about you."

"I've wasted enough time pandering to your incessant chatter," Kullas said. "Stop pestering me, techno blasphemy."

"Then may we observe?"

Kullas rolled his eyes.

"Fine, but be silent and let me work," he said.

He continued his work, a slightly irritable grate to the binaric canticles that he chanted as he worked. Legion remained quiet, the occasional buzz of its servos as it moved its head to get a better view the only indication of it being there at all.

The door to the armour slid open, and Kullas glanced up to see Tali entering.

"Apprentice adept," he said. "You're no longer comatose, I see."

"I'm not, no," Tali said. "I think I-Kullas, watch out!"

She grabbed her pistol, pointing it at the Geth, who raised its hands and stepped backwards.

"Don't bother," Kullas said. "We aren't supposed to kill it."

"What?" Tali asked. "It's a Geth."

"It's a different Geth," Kullas said, a hint of bitterness on his voice. "A special Geth, or something like that. It's an abominable intelligence, but no, we're letting it live."

"The Geth killed billions of my people and drove us from our own homeworld," Tali said. "I fought them with Shephard; they work for the Reapers."

"You fought the heretics," Legion said. "We are true Geth. We do not serve the Old Machines. We do not wish animosity."

"There is no difference," Tali said, pistol still raised. "That is a Geth. It's got something planned, I know it."

"Tali, Malleus gave the order that we aren't to kill that thing, unfortunately," Kullas said. "Besides, it's had plenty of opportunities to try and dispose of us, unless it simply plans to pester me to death with foolish questions."

Tali flicked the pistol into standby, the weapon folding in on itself, before she placed it back in its small holster at her belt, but there was an aggressive edge to her stance.

"I've got my eye on that thing," Tali said. "One false move, Geth, and I'll blast a new hole in you."

"We are Legion," the Geth said.

"What?" Tali asked.

"We have been designated Legion," the Geth said "In reference to Christian Bible Gospel of Mark chapter five verse nine."

"I don't care what you're called," Tali said. "I still don't like you." 

"Nor, Geth, do I," Kullas said. "I've no idea what Malleus was thinking when he brought you aboard. Next thing I know he'll be allowing us to summon daemons."

"What?"

"Demons are non existent."

"Never mind," Kullas said. "They're from my world. They're different to what most of your religions say about them. Though they're certainly not very good for your sanity or soul in any case."

"Right," Tali said slowly. Legion remained silent.

"In any case," Kullas said. "What happened to you? I heard you collapsed in the middle of combat, but the details weren't clear."

"I tried to hack into those turrets with a direct link to it and something went wrong," Tali said, waggling the fingers on her bionic to demonstrate. "I think it was a sort of information overload."

"I see," Kullas said. "If that was the case, then I'm impressed."

"Impressed?" Tali said. "I barely managed to hack them and then I fainted. Why do I always seem to be the one who collapses or gets injured or something on these missions? It never happened with Shephard, and I was fighting armies of Geth, and Krogan, and Rachni and all sorts of other things. I feel like some princess in a stupid fairy tale who just twists her ankle and faints all the time."

"Tali, your hand was just bad luck, and the second case is, I suppose, partly my fault," Kullas said. "I should have properly warned you of the dangers of a direct neural hacking without the proper augmetics and training. But the fact that you're not only standing in front of me, but still have full control of your faculties speaks volumes about what you managed."

"It does?" Tali asked. "Thank you. Is it possible to actually do that without collapsing, then? That could be useful."

"It is, but you would need augmentative cranial surgery as well as additional training," Kullas said.

"Really? I'd rather not have my head cut open, however handy that would be," Tali said. "Anyway, that's not important. What are you doing?"

"Titus asked me to make his shotgun semi-automatic, and if possible, install a magazine for it," Kullas said. "I suppose it would be good for another hands on demonstration of machine chants."

"May we enquire what purpose a machine chant holds?" Legion asked, aware that Kullas' embargo on it speaking seemed to have lifted.

Kullas glared at it for a moment, before simply saying; "No."

#

"Jack," Cyralius said. "Are you well?"

"Yeah, I guess I'm good," Jack said, glancing up from the bench in the lower engineering deck that had become her quarters. "You?"

"I'm…alright, I suppose," Cyralius answered. "I did have the rather shocking revelation that I may be much further from home than I initially suspected."

"Uhuh?" Jack said. "I don't get you, Cyril."

"I'm sorry?"

"You do all this badass stuff like throwing around fireballs and lighting and tornadoes and teleporting and stuff, but you're a massive pussy the rest of the time."

"What?"

"Look at you," Jack said. "You're seven foot tall or something and could probably bench press a hundred kilos easily, but you talk like…like some old teacher or something, and you're just so boring. For fuck's sake, I call your Cyril! How does that even work?"

"It's just the way I am," Cyralius said. "I spent most of my time among books at the Imperium, and I'm a psyker; I suppose I'll always be a bit of an outsider, even amongst my brothers. Anyway, are you alright, Jack, and an honest answer this time. You don't look right."

"What do you mean, I look…oh, yeah, the psyker thing. I should've thought. But no, I guess not. I've got thoughts in my head, crawling in and out like a whole load of little bugs. I can't stop 'em."

She shook her head, stepping away from him.

"I have a history with Cerberus," she said. "You probably know that, but whatever. The Illusive Man; I've never seen him before, but Cerberus raised me. The first thing I remember was a cell door in a Cerberus base. They did experiments, drugged me, plugged me full of needles and drips and electrodes and…ugh. But that's what gave me my biotics; they wanted a super biotic who they could control. I didn't volunteer for any of that either, not like you did for your Astartes stuff. The doctors, and the other kids there, they all hated me. They let me suffer."

"This was Cerberus, you say?" Cyralius said. "You're certain?"

"I was a kid, yeah, but I wasn't dumb," Jack replied. "I listened. It was Cerberus. I don't know how far down the chain it was, and I don't care."

Suddenly, she smiled a mirthless, dangerous smile.

"They thought they were so clever," she said. "Turns out, you mess somebody around enough and there's no knowing what they'll do."

"So what happened?" Cyralius asked.

"I broke out," Jack said. "There was some sort of emergency. The guards, the other kids, they attacked me, but I killed them, the whole damn lot; guess my biotics had developed faster than they'd planned. I stole a shuttle, and was picked up by a bunch of pirates, and they used me before selling me on Omega, and I've been surviving ever since. That's my uplifting story."

Cyralius shook his head in sympathy.

"So what do you want to do, then?" he asked.

"I found out where this place is, some planet called Pragia in the Nubian Expanse," Jack said. "I want to go there, find my cell, plant a big fucking bomb and blow it to shit. And I wanna watch."

"That IFF isn't yet ready," Cyralius said. "So I'm sure I'll have the time to help you before we go after the Collectors."

"Good. Look, thanks, Cyril," Jack said. "This…this means a lot to me."

She shook her head.

"Let's just get there," she said. "Enough fucking around. Let's do this."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26-Loose End

They arrived at Pragia in a rainstorm. The planet's atmosphere torn up by the emissions of refining Element Zero, the brief that Cyralius had read on the planet had reported that these storms were one of the many side effects of the process, along with unusually biotic mutations in the fauna and locals and incredibly fast plant growth. Considering this had happened in but twenty years, Cyralius had to hand it to the industry tycoons who ran Pragia; that sort of ecological devastation was on par with the Imperium's own efforts.

The rain pinged off the hull of the small shuttle that was taking them there, while the sky above was dark and heavy with cloud. Jack was sitting opposite the epistolary, fidgeting in her seat, before she looked up and said; "Let's not do this."

"What?" Cyralius asked.

"I changed my mind. Let's just go back and forget this ever happened. It was a bad idea. Something'll go wrong."

"It'll be fine, Jack," Cyralius said calmly.

"No, it won't, something'll happen, it'll all go to shit. I know it will, I do."

"Jack, I promise you nothing will happen," Cyralius said. "We will go in there, I have the bomb with me and we can destroy the complex."

Jack sighed quietly, before nodding.

"Okay," she said. "Let's just do this."

She'd been like this since Malleus had agreed to take them to Pragia's capital, a cloudy worm of grey doubtful fear crawling constricting the edges of her skull.

"Where do we need to land?" Cyralius asked.

"The pad's on the roof," Jack said. "They had to build it there or the vegetation would overgrow it in a couple of hours. Up high, it usually dies before it can reach."

"Well I suppose that makes getting in easier," Cyralius said.

"Hope so," Jack murmured.

There was a chiming noise, before the shuttle's onboard Virtual Intelligence announced; "We are arriving at our destination. Please prepare to disembark."

The shuttle landed with a gentle thud upon the rooftop, and they stepped out into the rain, Jack raising an arm in a vain attempt to try and shelter herself from the falling water.

"Down there!" she called over the wind, pointing to a walkway that wound downwards back into the wall of the building they had landed on. "That's it!"

They hurried through the rain, the shuttle's door sliding shut behind them, Cyralius slinging the small but weighty package of the Element-Zero powered bomb over one of the pauldrons of his armour, rain bouncing off its blue surface as he followed Jack. The walkway led to a door that, with a small shower of rust, slid open for them, and Jack stepped within the dark, dank room. Several large containers, banded and blocky, occupied most of the room, overshadowing it with their bulk.

"This where they brought the new kids in," Jack said. "They were messed up in the head and starving, but alive, usually. I think I was in a crate just like this one."

"It's certainly managed to endure the passage of time well," Cyralius remarked, looking around.

"Bastards built their stuff to last," Jack said. "I wonder how many years they had planned for me."

"No idea," Cyralius murmured, looking around with a furrow in his brow. "This is a grim place."

"What?"

"There is despair here," he said. "Fear too. So thick and so old I can taste it."

"I…I can get that that, yeah," Jack said.

She stepped through a door into a corridor, looking around warily as her boots splashed in puddles. Water dripped on tiles that had turned grey with age, wide stains on the walls marking its passage over time.

"Hold on a moment," Cyralius said. "What's that?"

Jack followed the direction of his gaze, over on the far side of the room they had entered. It was flickering hologram, clearly of great age, a man in some sort of lab coat, lips moving but no sound coming out. Jack approached the pedestal projecting it as the projection seemed to loop back, and pressed a button.

"…he's getting suspicious," a voice crackled out. Another voice replied; "When he gets results he won't care what we did. But if he finds out…"

"The Illusive man requested operation logs again; he's getting suspicious," the first voice said, jumping back to the start of the recording, the second saying once again; "When he gets results he won't care what we did. But if he finds out…The Illusive man requested-"

Jack pressed a button, and the hologram began to move more rapidly, before it said; "But if he finds out…"

She pressed another button.

"But if he finds out…but if he finds out…but if he finds out."

She flicked the ancient hologram off.

"It sounds like they went rogue here," Cyralius said.

"He didn't say what they were hiding," Jack said. "Could be anything."

Cyralius kept quiet, shaking his head before opening another door. Jack followed, looking around the much larger room with a vague hint of nostalgia on her face.

"I remember escaping to this room," she said quietly. "Fighting here. I saw sunlight for the first time through those skylights. All there was was a half-dead guard between me and that door. Bastard was begging for his life."

They headed through the room, skirting more of the large storage crates that were scattered around it. Old bullet holes pock-marked the walls, while patches of rust or plant growth covered many of the crates. Past one of the crates, near a door into the next room, was a circle of concrete barriers; there were bloodstains on some, old ones that had ingrained themselves into the crumbling stone.

"What was this?" Cyralius asked. "An arena?"

"Yeah," Jack said. "They used to pit me against other kids here. I loved it; the only time I was ever let out of my cell."

"Fights?" Cyralius asked. "What was their purpose?" 

"Hell if I know," Jack said. "Maybe they weren't studying anything, maybe they just did it for kicks. All I knew is that they pumped me full of drugs and shocked me if I hesitated."

"So the others would die in this?" Cyralius asked, looking over the cracked and battered tiles of the makeshift arena.

"Sometimes," Jack said. "If I hurt them, killed them, they'd give a boost of stuff, get me higher. I still get a nice warm feeling when I kill people now."

"Making killing addictive; old, old piece of conditioning, that. Makes me think of the Crimson Angels," Cyralius muttered.

"What were they?"

"Another Astartes chapter," Cyralius said. "Barbaric cannibals, quite mad. Used combat drugs a great deal."

"Cannibals? Cool," Jack replied.

"You wouldn't necessarily say that if you met them," Cyralius said. "Their methods were considered extreme by even some in the Imperium. Anyway, let's go."

Jack nodded, stepping through the door and into another corridor. Part of the ceiling had fallen in here, and rain was pouring through, collecting in a puddle on the floor. One way only led to a cracked window and yet more of Pragia's rather hostile weather, but the other led down a corridor, in the same sorry state that the rest of the facility was in.

"Wait, what's this?" Cyralius asked, stopping at another holo-pedestal. He pressed the play button, and a hologram of an armoured security guard appeared.

"This is Officer Zemki," he was saying, finger near the ear of his helmet, presumably to active a vox-caster of some sort; the background, there was the sound of crashing, gunshots and yells of pain and fury and fear. "The subjects are out of their cells. They're tearing the place apart! Subject Zero is going to get loose; I need permission to terminate. Repeat, I need permission to terminate!" 

"All subjects besides Zero are expendable," another voice said. "Keep Jack alive."

"Understood," the hologram of Zemki said. "I'll begin the-"

It was cut off as Jack turned the hologram off.

"That's not right," she said. "I broke out when my guards disappeared. I started that riot!"

"You were stuck in a cell, weren't you?" Cyralius asked. "There may have been more going on than you could see."

"Yeah, maybe," Jack said. "I don't know. Let's keep going."

The room they entered was a large, what looked to be oversized filing cabinets lining each wall.

"This looks like a morgue," Cyralius said as he looked around.

"That doesn't make sense," Jack replied. "This was supposed to be a small facility."

"Perhaps more children died here than you thought," Cyralius said. "In experiments and the like, and then the bodies were checked over for mistakes."

"Bullshit," Jack said. "I had the worst of it, and I'm still alive."

"I know, I know," Cyralius said soothingly, pressing the button by the nearest door and letting it slide open, following the set of steps that led downwards. He looked around at the cells that led off the on each side, before saying; "This must be where they kept the children."

The rooms were cramped and tiny, several ancient pallets squeezed into them, no other furniture. No overhead lighting; if the doors closed, they would have been kept in pitch darkness.

"The Black Ships," he murmured to himself. "Similar. Too similar."

"What was that?" Jack asked.

"Never mind," Cyralius said. "It's nothing."

"Right," Jack said. She stepped through the next door, onto a walkway; the floor below was nothing more than mud and mould, a tree having burst through the tiles and grown rapidly before finally dying, dozens of other plants leeching onto its husk and sprouting for that to make some bizarre hybrid of several dozen species. Along one was what looked to be a pane of blackened glass, and Jack stopped there for a moment, touching it gently with a look of confusion on her face.

"This…this was a two way mirror?" she asked. "My cell, it was on the other side. I could see all the other kids out here, and I'd yell at them but they'd just ignore me."

"I wonder why they did that," Cyralius asked. "Such actions strike me as simply being gratuitous." 

"I think they were trying to see if pain could enhance biotic powers," Jack said. "I don't know if it did. I thought your Imperium was pretty nasty anyway; they didn't try anything like this with psykers?"

"A psyker is a great deal harder to control than a biotic," Cyralius said. "And a great deal less stable. Any attempts on experiment on psykers would risk a great deal more than just the researcher's life."

"Right," Jack said. "That Warp thing again, isn't it?"

Cyralius nodded.

"It's a complicated thing," he said. "Not even I understand it fully."

Jack declined to comment, stepping through the last door.

"We're near my cell," she said. "And we're…"

She trailed off as she looked around the room, biting her lip suddenly at the sight of an ancient surgical chair, rusted mechanical arms seeming to beckon with the promise of some needled, bladed embrace.

"Are you alright, Jack?" Cyralius asked, gently laying a gauntlet on her shoulder. She twitched as she felt, almost as if she were jerking away from the Epistolary, before she nodded.

"Yeah," she said hesitantly. "I'm fine. It's just…just that chair there. That's where a lot of the experiments happened."

She stepped away, biting her lip, towards another holo-pedestal, activating it.

"Entry ten fifty four, Teltin Facility," a man in what could be another lab coat, the same scientist they had seen near the entrance, said. The latest iteration of PergNim went poorly; subjects one, three and six died, and no biotic improvement amongst the survivors. We all tried lowering their core temperature, but this elicited no change. As a side effect, all subjects died, so I don't think we'll be trying that on Subject Zero. I hope our supply of biotic-potential subjects holds up; we're going through them fast."

"This is bullshit," Jack said, slamming a button on the console and cutting the hologram off. "They weren't experimenting on these kids for my _safety_."

"You can't blame yourself for what they did to the others," Cyralius said gently.

"No, no!" Jack said. "I survived because I was tougher than the others, because that's what I am. No other reason!"

"Clearly, that wasn't the case," Cyralius said.

"I said I survived because I was the toughest," Jack said. "That…that…that's natural selection, nothing else. I wasn't picked to survive, I survived because I'm better."

"Then what of all these records, the morgue, the tests?" Cyralius asked. "Denying it won't help you, Jack. If you want to actually overcome this, you have to accept that these things happened."

"No, no they didn't," Jack murmured, shaking her head. "They didn't!"

"It's the truth, Jack," Cyralius said, gently yet firmly. "It is harsh, and it is cruel and it may well hurt, but it's the truth."

"SHUT UP!" Jack suddenly screamed. She rushed hopelessly at Cyralius, pounding her fists against his chestplate futilely. "SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!"

Cyralius waited for her to stop, letting her vent her ire for a moment until she began to weep. Gently, the epistolary held her, letting her cry against his armour, saying nothing and knowing that right now, his silence was all that the young biotic needed. He looked down on her, pity on his face; Jack was young, that much he knew, tiny and frail despite the air of aggressive invulnerability she put so much effort into maintaining.

"I didn't want this," she said quietly. "I just…why? Why did this happen? What did I do? I didn't want these powers. I just wanted to be normal. I don't want to be angry and scared all the time."

"Fate can be a cruel mistress, Jack," Cyralius said. "It seems that every for every five fortunate soul there are there must be one to bear all their miseries and woes for them."

"Yeah," Jack said quietly. "Thanks, Cyril."

"Come on," Cyralius said. "Let's go and plant this bomb."

Jack nodded.

"My room's was just through here," she said, motioning over to a nearby door. "I don't think they liked me moving around; too much chance of me breaking free."

The corridor the door opened onto was a ruin, floor ruptured and shattered by what could have been a localised hurricane, an ancient bloodstain, twisted metal and a few bones marking what could have been a corpse.

"The first guard," Jack nodded. "Not the last, either."

She stepped through into a small room. On the far side was the window they had seen earlier, the walkway-lined room and the strange tree at its centre visible through it, a bed to one side and a small desk on the other.

"Here we are," she said. "This room, it was my whole childhood. Give me minute to look around."

"Of course," Cyralius said.

"It's all different," Jack said quietly, looking around her. "Yet it's all the same."

For a moment, she was silent, slowly walking around the room, seeming to survey it; she was still, Cyralius could see, the usual flickering hurricane that was her psyche seeming to have calmed.

"Alright," she said. "Let's plant that bomb and get out of here."

#

The shuttle left the rooftop with a whine of engines, rising upwards into the air above the derelict Cerberus facility. Upwards it rose, higher and higher into the sky, until the altimeter read eight hundred metres. The entire time, Jack had the detonator, flicking the safety cap on it up and down in agitation, a look of fierce concentration and slight worry on her face.

Cyralius nodded to her and pressed a button on the console next to him, the door of the shuttle sliding open. Jack gripped an overhead rail with her free hand as she stood up to look down at the facility below her. She flicked the cap open, glanced over at Cyralius for a moment, and the looked back at the facility before pressing the button.

The great ball of flame lit up the night sky with a wave of heat that was felt in the shuttle, and the vehicle rocked a few moments later as the shockwave hit them. Jack yelled in glee as the facility was obliterated, as the flames burned themselves out and a smouldering crater came into view as the rain drove back the smoke and dust. Cyralius stepped up next to her, looking down as well onto the ruins of the facility.

"It's done," Jack said quietly. "Finally, it's gone."

"Are we done here, then?" Cyralius asked.

"Yeah," Jack said, nodding quietly. "Come on, let's head back to the Normandy. I reckon Malleus' probably thought of some new way to get us killed by now."


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27-Treason

"Ave Imperator, Forge Priest," Hullen said as he entered the armoury, a large container tucked beneath his arm. "Been cooped up in here all day?"

"Brother Titus's request has been a little more difficult to fulfill than originally anticipated," Kullas said, glancing up from his work. "The circuitry on this weapon is rather intricate. This is why I prefer working with solid-slug weapons; they're so much more practical. What's that you have there?"

"This?" Hullen asked, slinging the box on the table and opening it up. "I've been doing some shopping, getting industrial chemicals."

"Chemicals? What for?" Kullas asked.

"My melta," Hullen said. "I've been doing some research on the extranet, and it turns out all the chemicals I needed are right here for sale on Pragia."

"I thought most of those were dangerously volatile," Kullas said. "Wouldn't they be difficult to acquire?"

"That's the beauty of going shopping on a planet where the idea of free commerce means truly free," Hullen replied, getting several piece of glasswork, a small Bunsen burner and a pair of goggles out. "You don't need licenses for anything. I could've bought an Alliance tank, if I wanted to; I saw a place with one for sale." 

"A tank?"

"That's right. We wouldn't have had a place to put it, though, and frankly it looked too damn fragile. Give me a Predator or a Vindicator any day."

"As soon as I work out a way to refine adamantium ore I'll let you know," Kullas said, bending back down to continue working Titus' half-gutted weapon, before he suddenly stopped. "Hold a moment, if you have a way of making ammunition for your melta, why did I need to make you that mass-driver assault cannon?"

"Because one of my Reavers had broken and one wasn't anywhere near good enough once I'd tried two," Hullen said. "Besides, that thing will still be useful. A melta's a situation weapon, isn't it, and I can't waste ammo for my bolt pistol."

"I see," Kullas said flatly.

Hullen took a small vial of something transparent and with several warning labels, poured it carefully into a beaker and began to heat it gently, before dropping in something blue and smiling as the mixture turned a deep green. There was an air of quiet amicability about the two of them as they worked, the chittering of Kullas' machine canticles the only thing breaking the silence. Hullen stepped up from his work for a moment, reaching for one of his melta's fuel canisters, when he stopped, noticing Legion standing in the corner of the room.

"How long has that been there?" he asked.

"All day," Kullas replied irritably. "It won't stop pestering me with pointless questions about the Mechanicum."

"Such as?" Hullen pressed.

"The purpose of machine chants, what exactly the Mechanicum is, what the Omnissah is, and so on," Kullas said.

"So the same sort of things Tali asked you when you first introduced the idea of the Mechanicum to her," Hullen said. "You didn't seem to mind then. In fact, if I remember correctly, you were delighted somebody was taking an interest in the Mechanicum, even if it was a xenos."

"Yes," Kullas said slowly.

"But you do mind if Legion asks the same sort of things," Hullen said.

"Legion is an abominable intelligence," Kullas replied firmly.

"Tali's a xenos. Isn't that just as bad?" Hullen asked, as he took one of the fuel canisters for his melta from a nearby shelf.

"Tali is, at least, in possession of a soul," Kullas said. "Nor, I think, does she try to discover more of the Mechanicum's power simply for her own ends, unlike this thing here." 

Hullen grinned and shook his head as poured the fuel into the melta's canister.

"What?" Kullas asked. "Do you…do you actually find this _funny_?"

"A bit," he said. "Come on, you've got to admit that there is something absolutely absurd about this entire thing, haven't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Us falling through a hole in the universe to somewhere which is quite possibly the worst place for an Astartes to be," Hullen said, making a sweeping gesture to Pragia's rainswept capital that lay beyond the Armoury's window as if to emphasise his point. "I mean, look at this place. Xenos, AIs, all seeming to work together with humanity. For goodness sake, I saw a news piece that some Alliance soldier is being put to trial for accidentally shooting a civilian! These people get upset over anything."

"It does strike me as somewhat inefficient," Kullas said. "I believe a majority of this galaxy's citizens probably suffer from some sort of entitlement complex brought on by sociological factors."

There was a pause, before Hullen asked; "And what does that mean, exactly?"

"Their leaders give them too much leeway," Kullas said. "They are brought up to believe that they are naturally entitled to the rights and privileges granted to them by their governments."

"Yeah, I can see what you mean," Hullen said, already beginning the fuel creation process for a second tank of fuel, gently stirring the mixture.

The door of the armoury opened, and Kullas looked up to see Tali enter.

"Apprentice Adept," he said. "This is irregular."

"Kullas," Tali said. "You're here. Thank goodness. We need to talk. In private."

Legion stepped towards the door, and she glanced over at Hullen, who was squinting into the mixture he was making with utmost care as some carefully measured powder was poured into it.

"I would leave," he said. "But if I do I'll probably blow up the entire armoury."

"Perhaps we should talk outside," Kullas suggested, and Tali nodded quietly, before stepping out into the corridor of the Normandy. "What's this about."

"I got a message from the Migrant Fleet," Tali said. "I…I've been accused of treason."

"Treason?" Kullas asked. "When was this?"

"I received the message just a few minutes ago," Tali said. "It doesn't say what I was charged for, though. And I don't know why I would be."

"Are these charges common?" Kullas asked. "What's the usual punishment?"

"Exile," Tali said. "They're not common though, no; it's only the most dire crimes that it happens. The last time it happened, the accused had passed on ship schematics. She hadn't done anything wrong; it was for batarian contractors taken in to repair some ships, but they passed them on to pirates. She made a suicide run on them when they tried to attack the fleet and was pardoned posthumously, but I really, really don't want it to be that."

"I see," Kullas said. "Are you sure you cannot think of anything that might have caused these charges?" 

"I suppose…I suppose it might have been those Geth," Tali said.

"Geth?" Kullas asked. "How would Legion manage to-"

"No, no, not Legion," Tali interrupted. "I still don't trust that thing, but that wasn't it. I was shipping Geth parts back to my father in the fleet."

"Why?"

"He was trying to see if he could access their neural network, to try and control them again," Tali said. "I'd get deactivated parts back to him discreetly, and he'd use them for his research. But I always made sure they were deactivated, I checked and double checked them, but if I made a mistake…" 

"I'm sure there's more to it than meets the eye," Kullas said. "When is the trial?"

"Whenever I can arrive," Tali said. "I'm supposed to inform them when I'll be able to get there, but I don't know if I'll be able to make it soon. I suppose I could book passage on a ship, but even then that might take a while and we seem to be close to getting into the relay, so Malleus might not-"

"Tali," Kullas said. "You are beginning to babble; I imagine that you may be becoming panicked. I'll talk to Malleus; we have no outstanding assignments aside from getting this IFF to work and even that still gives us another two days at the very least. I'm sure a journey to the Migrant Fleet to deal with this whole business can be arranged easily enough."

"I hope so," Tali said. "Can you talk to him, please?" 

"I shall, right away," Kullas replied. "This is some misunderstanding, I'm sure of it; we'll have it resolved by the end of tomorrow, that I promise."

#

Gaius paced like a caged animal, almost snarling under his breath with pent-up frustration and shame. The starboard observation deck seemed too small for him, but he felt unwelcome anywhere else aboard the Normandy, and the only place beyond that was superluminal vacuum. He had tried meditation techniques, but he couldn't get the stillness he needed for that to work, his wounded pride ached so.

The door to the observation deck slid open, and Gaius turned on his heel with almost alarming speed to see Titus entering.

"Gaius," the standard bearer said. "I thought you'd be on that training sim." 

"No," Gaius replied. "According to EDI, I'm developing an 'unhealthy obsession.'"

"You do go on it rather a lot," Titus said. "That said, it was always hard to tear you away from the training cages."

Gaius ignored him, instead going on; "It was mothering me. A damn abominable intelligence was _mothering me_. It's a joke!"

"Gaius, I think you might be getting a little too upset about this," Titus said.

"I don't know," Gaius said. "There was something wrong about what I did. Not just me not obeying orders, but _why_ I didn't."

"Well, why didn't you?" Titus said.

"I don't know!" Gaius exclaimed, reflexively punching the wall next to him. Even though he wore no armour, there was an audible clang as his ceramic-enhanced knuckles impacted the bulkhead. "I don't know. It wasn't rational, it wasn't thought out or reasonable at all. I shouldn't have done it, and I've no idea why I did!"

Titus grimaced sympathetically.

"Do you think…do you think it was that Reaper?" Gaius suddenly asked. "Getting into my head, like it did with those scientists?"

"I don't know," Titus said. "By the looks of it, it was a slow process. You were in there only a few hours; I doubt it would happen that quickly."

"I hope not," Gaius said. "I really hope so. That would be…I don't know what it would be."

"Gaius, you're an Astartes," Titus said, clapping the young champion on the shoulder. "You wouldn't be broken that easily."

"I don't know," Gaius said.

"What do you mean?" Titus asked.

"It scares me," Gaius said quietly. "That idea; losing myself, being controlled by some machine, being turned against you, actually helping destroy humanity instead of doing my duty and protecting it. Is that wrong, Titus? We're supposed to be immune to fear, but, well, look at me. I'm fearful of such a thing."

Titus thought for a moment, before saying; "I don't honestly know. But you're willing to do your duty, yes?" 

"I am," Gaius said. "If I had to die in the name of humanity or the Emperor, I would do so gladly."

Titus smiled at this.

"Nothing wrong with you then," he said. "Nothing wrong with not wanting to fail, either. Believe me, I don't blame you for feeling that way; that indoctrination thing is, frankly, repellent."

"I just pray it doesn't happen to me," Gaius said.

"Well, it won't," Titus said, a note of reassuring certainty in his voice. "Come on, enough moping around. Your grounding will end soon enough. We're going to need you focused if you want to actually be of any use against the Collectors."

"You're right," Gaius said. "I think I might get a little meditation done, think about what you said. Thank you, Titus."

"Not a problem," Titus replied. "I'll leave you be, then."

Gaius nodded, before getting on one knee, bowing his head as he assumed the Sons' typical position of prayer and contemplation. Titus left the company champion be, deciding to see if he could make himself useful elsewhere.

#

"Hold it steady," Cyralius said gently. "Steadier. More focus on it, Jack; it's too spread out. I want a globe, not a round cloud."

"I'm trying, alright," Jack protested, squinting at the sphere of biotic energy that she held between her hands in a bond of invisible force. She focused, trying to force it together into a more coherent concentration, its surface becoming smoother as she did so, a globe that light the lower engineering deck a dim blue.

"Good," Cyralius said. "Now keep it as it is."

Jack frowned in concentration as she tried to keep it steady, pushing to keep it compact until suddenly, with sound like liquid glass bending, it collapsed in on itself, a tiny black hole beginning to form.

"Fuck!" Jack cursed, cutting of the singularity's supply of energy and letting it swiftly consume itself under its own steam.

"Try again," Cyralius said.

"What?" Jack said. "I'm no good at this, am I? Besides, what am I going to use it for?"

"It's not a matter of practical application, it's about skill and discipline," Cyralius said. "Besides, you're lucky. Chief Librarian Antius would've had me fasting if I only managed to keep it stable that long."

"You sound like an old man, Cyril," Jack replied, grinning.

"Don't be cheeky," Cyralius said. "Come on, try it again."

"Yeah, fine," Jack said. She began to concentrate, gathering biotic energy between hands and shaping it carefully, giving it a solid coherency in remarkable time. "Alright!"

"Good, but hold it now," Cyralius said. "Keep it steady as long as you can."

Jack frowned in concentration, and held the ball stead for almost a full minute before she cut the supply of energy to it.

"Alright," she said, shaking her slightly. "I'm gonna faint if I keep that up much longer."

"Fine, fine," Cyralius said. "I suppose we should probably wrap up there. More training same time tomorrow?"

"Okay," Jack said. "Hey Cyril, I got a question. What's it like being a psyker?"

Cyralius thought for a moment, before saying; "Different. We are very different."

"So are biotics," Jack said. "You know what I mean, though. Like, poking through into that Warp thing you've said about. What's that like?"

"The Warp?" Cyralius said. "I've no idea. If I did look in there I'd go insane. No doubt about that."

"Right," Jack said. "Fine. But I mean, I dunno, as a person."

"Well…I can't say we're well loved," Cyralius said. "Not at all. Most of us are outsiders, though it's a lot we accept."

"I know what you mean," Jack said. "I mean, you-"

"I appreciate the kind intention behind your words, Jack, but you have no idea what you're talking about," Cyralius said. "Biotics, at the very least, have several groups campaigning for their rights. They may be feared, sometimes, but you are, a vast majority of the time at least, treated as human beings."

"Oh yeah?" Jack asked, suddenly riled. "Hey, look at the shit I've been through. What happened to you, then?"

"Suffer not the psyker to live," Cyralius said suddenly. "The psyker is a stain upon the blessed purity of mankind. Though a psyker may be used, may be bound and trained like the beast that it is, the psyker is abhorrence and insult to humanity. Only through unflinching sacrifice to the Emperor can a psyker hope to gain absolution; else the psyker must be destroyed. Better a thousand pure and innocent souls die than one psyker be allowed to live unfettered and unchained."

There was a silence, before Jack quietly said; "Wow. People really think that?"

"They do," Cyralius said. "I don't blame them, and frankly, I'm as strong a supporter such views as anybody is."

"What?" Jack said. "That's like…that's like me saying I support the Human Purity League or something."

"Human Purity League?"

"Anti-biotic group," Jack said. "Fucking Nazis, the lot of them. Anyway, why the hell do you support that stuff?"

"Because it's correct," Cyralius said. "Psykers are dangerous, but not just in the same way biotics are. Sure, we can throw things around as well, but the worst thing that can happen to a biotic if they overuse their powers is that they might collapse or maybe go blind for a few hours. If a psyker does, then the results are really quite, quite terrible." 

"What do you mean?" Jack asked.

"We're dangerous," Cyralius said. "We have a connection with a realm that should best be left untouched, and the problem with the Warp is that it is unpredictable, insane and utterly imnicable to the soul. It can drive us insane all too easily, and insane psyker is a psyker is a psyker without any inhibitions is a danger not only to those around them but to entire worlds; I've seen planets enslaved by mad kings worshipping gods I'd rather not name, working through their psychic puppets. I've killed more than a few of them myself. Psykers are incredibly dangerous, and we need to be leashed for our own good as much as anybody else's."

"Wow," Jack said. "That's pretty harsh."

"That's life," Cyralius said. "You of all people should know that."

"Yeah," Jack said.

"Anyway, I should go," Cyralius said.

He turned to go, and was halfway up the stairs that led to Jack's hidey-hole before she said; "Oh yeah, Cyril."

"Yes Jack?"

"Freak or not, well…you're still cool."

Cyralius just smiled.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28-Law

The Mass-Effect relay located in the Valhallan Threshold blazed with blue light as the Normandy materialized next to it from superluminal speed. For a moment, the ship hung next to the colossal space-borne mass driver that had transported it from Pragia, before its own engines flared into life and swiftly powered it towards the flotilla of ships so large that, even thousands of miles away, its sensors were ablaze with floods of data.

It swooped close, and soon the ships came into view, a great flock of vessels shining in the harsh light of the twin suns they were orbiting. The ship grew closer, individual vessels, thousands of them, soon become distinguishable from the great flotilla.

"We're in radio contact range," Joker announced as the Normandy swept in. Within the cockpit was Tali, Malleus and Kullas, watching the approaching fleet with interest.

"Good. Open a link," Tali said. Joker nodded to her, and the Quarian announced; "This is Tali Zorah Nar Rayya Vas Neema, requesting permission to land on the ship, the Rayya."

"Our system has your ship flagged as Cerberus," a voice, its accent unmistakably Quarian, announced. "Verify."

"After time adrift among open stars, along tides of light and shoals of dust, I shall return to where I began," Tali replied, clearly uttering some sort of passphrase.

"Verified," the radio-operator said. "Welcome home, Tali Zorah."

"We need a security and quarantine team to meet us," Tali said. "Our ship is not clean."

"Understood," the operator said. "Approach exterior docking cradle seventeen."

Joker guided the Normandy next to the Rayya, a particularly large ship with an immense sphere of paneled metal dominating its form, and a docking corridor extended to meet them, clamping over the airlock.

"Are you sure you and Tali wish to do this alone?" Malleus asked the Forge Priest quietly in Gothic.

"I am sure," Kullas said. "This is a personal issue, and with all due respect, brother-captain, of all the members of this ship's crew I am the one she trusts most. Besides, their anti-contamination routines are somewhat stringent. It would be simplest for just the two of us to go."

"Very well," Malleus said, as Joker opened the interior door of the airlock. "I suppose the rest of us will just have to wait aboard the Normandy."

"We shall not be long," Kullas said. "Ave Omnissah, brother captain."

They stepped through the airlock, and along a short corridor, before out a second set of doors. Kullas had placed his helmet on, a precaution against bacterial infection, and the scanners built into it identified and highlighted several Quarians standing ready to meet them, ones that carried weapons and, even beneath their sealed enviro-suits, had a particularly brawny set to them. At their front was an unarmed one, his own suit a bronze colour with a red sash sitting over it. It seemed to look surprised for a moment, before saying; "We were, ah, not expecting a diplomatic mission."

"Nor should you have been," Kullas said. "My name is Kullas Lokarim, and I come to speak on behalf of Tali Zorah Vas Neema."

"I see," the Quarian said. "I am Captain Kar'Danna Vas Neema. Tali, it is good to see you again."

"An honour," Kullas said.

"It's good to see you again, Kar'Danna," Tali said. "But what exactly am I being charged for, here?"

"You've been charged with smuggling active Geth parts onto the fleet for your father's research," Kar'Danna said. "Which is as treasonous as you can get without actually going a stealing a ship."

"They were not active," Tali replied firmly. "They were safe!"

"Look," Kar'Danna said. "I believe you Tali, but there's no point talking about it here; we'll have to this at the hearing. It's at the garden court."

"Where's that?" Kullas asked.

"Don't worry," Tali said. "I know the way."

She led him through the corridors of the Rayya. It was a compact ship, somewhat cramped, and even in its corridors storage crates were lashed to the walls. Various Quarians watched them on their way through with interest, a few calling greeting to Tali which the young machinist returned, or simply staring fascinated at the Astartes in their midst.

They reached a doorway leading into what looked to be a large courtyard, with greenery arranged around it in various points, and Tali suddenly stopped as she saw another Quarian woman waiting there.

"Auntie Raan!" Tali said, stepping forward embracing the Quarian, who hugged her back.

"Tali Zorah Vas Normandy," she said warmly, her voice sounding like that of a much older person. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too," Tali said. "Kullas, this is my father's friend, Shala Raan Vas Rayya. Auntie Raan, this is Kullas Lokarim Vas, um…Normandy? Or Mechanicus?"

"Kullas Lokarim Vas Valaso Darundah Nar Mechanicum," Kullas replied, adding; "I've been learning Quarian, lately."

"Alright," Tali said. "Wait a moment, Auntie Raan, you just called me Tali Zorah Vas Normandy."

"Yes," Raan said, shaking her masked head. "Unfortunately, the rest of the Admiralty Board declared you a member of the crew of the Normandy, which is why Kar'Danna can't speak for you."

"That is why I am here," Kullas said.

"You are captain of the Normandy?" Raan asked. "I thought that was your leader, Malleus."

"I am not captain, but Tali has also been sworn in as an Apprentice Adept of the Adeptus Mechanicus," Kullas said. "As a Techpriest of the Mechanicus, and therefore of senior rank, I am allowed to act as an advocate on her behalf for any charges that she is accused of, as allowed by the Decree of Mons signed by Fabricator General Olban Tel in 015.M32."

"Meaning?" Raan asked.

"I have the authority to speak as defendant of Tali," Kullas said. "And if the Admiralty Board wishes to dispute that then they are welcome to see how far they get arguing against the authority of an organisation ten thousand years of age."

"Well, if you're certain," Raan said. "I think we've delayed long enough; the Admiralty Board were already getting impatient before you arrived."

"Auntie Raan, you're a member of the board," Tali said. "Aren't you going to be hearing me as well?"

"I'm too closely involved in this to be viewed as a neutral party," Raan said. "I'll be making sure the trial is a fair process, but I can't speak for either side."

"Just a quick question," Kullas said. "Is there anything of Quarian law that I should know of?"

"No," Raan said. "There won't be any legal tricks or political loopholes that you need to worry about."

"I am glad to hear that," Kullas said. "Please, lead on."

Raan lead them into the square, down a set of steps that formed a sort of semicircular arena, a podium at its centre on which three Quarians stood, appraising both Tali and Kullas as they descended to the open bottom of the small arena. Raan nodded to them to indicate that this was where they were to stand, before stepping up to a higher podium behind the three Quarians, who Kullas assumed to be the Admiralty Board. A crowd had gathered, sitting on the tiered edges of the arena, clearly here to watch the trial proceed.

"In this hallowed ground of our ancestors, we come to discuss matters of justice and the law," Raan announced, reciting some traditional blessing for the trial. "May it remain a fair one under their eyes. Keelah Se'Lai."

The last two words were repeated by the crowd, including Tali, before Raan said; "Kullas Lokarim Vas Valaso Darundah Nar Mechanicum, you come before us as advocate for Tali Zorah Vas Neema Nar Rayya."

"Objection!" one of the admiralty board members called out, his suit a light grey with red cloth across it at various points. "This trial involves confidential military information. Why are we allowing an alien as her speaker?"

"Then you should not have declared Tali a crewmember of the Normandy, Admiral Koris," Raan said. "As her crewmate, Kullas holds the right to speak for Tali."

"Objection withdrawn, then," Koris said.

"Then I shall continue," Raan said. "Tali, you are accused of bringing active Geth aboard the fleet. What say you?"

For a moment, Kullas was silent, thinking Tali was being asked to speak for herself, before the young Quarian nudged him with her elbow.

"I sincerely believe that Tali would not endanger the Migant Fleet," Kullas said. "She holds it in the highest possible regard, and pleads not guilty."

"I left parts and technology for teams to pick up, that's all," Tali said. "My father ordered me to do so. But I would never send active parts to the fleet. Everything I sent was disabled and harmless."

"Then explain to us why the Geth seized the lab ship that Rael Zorah was working on," Koris said. There was a murmur of conversation through the crowd, until Raan wave an arm for silence.

"What are you talking about?" Tali asked. "What happened?"

"As far as we can tell, Tali," one of the other admirals said. "The Geth have killed everybody aboard the Alarei, your father included. I'm sorry."

"What?" Tali asked. "No…Oh, keelah!"

"Admirals," Kullas said, stepping forward and pressing a reassuring hand on Tali's shoulder. "I appreciate the need for this trial, but a Geth controlled ship in the midst of the Migrant Fleet is a pressing concern. I have on my side a fine warship and some of the best warriors in the galaxy, and I am sure they would need little persuasion to agree to aid the Quarian people."

"You would retake the Alarei?" Raan asked. "That is somewhat of a dangerous proposal."

"With your permission, yes," Kullas said. "We may be able to find the truth behind the obvious confusion that laboured Tali with this charge, and Tali clearly needs to find her father."

"Agreed," one of the admirals said, the same one who had broken the news to Tali. "Several strike teams have already tried to retake it, but you are welcome to attempt it. And if you die during this mission, Tali, I shall see to it that your name is cleared of all charges."

"We can discuss that later," Koris said, to which the other Quarian made a somewhat dismissive gesture.

"Very well then," Raan said. "This meeting is suspended until your return from the Alarei, or if we determine that you have been killed in action. You are hereby given leave to depart the Rayya; a shuttle will be waiting at the secondary docking hangar. Keep safe, Tali."

The crowd began to disperse, and Tali and Kullas stepped up a few of the steps that led up out of the arena.

"Are you alright, Tali?" Kullas asked. "I imagine this must be quite a shock."

"I…I don't know," Tali replied. "I guess you're never really ready for a charge of treason. And my father…I don't know. They don't know for certain that he's dead. I just don't know, Kullas. I need to find out."

"Then let's," Kullas said.

Tali led Kullas out of the court, through several more corridors before they were stopped at a door by what looked to be another Quarian marine.

"Greetings, Tali Zorah Vas Normandy," he said. "I've got your clearance here."

"So can we go?" Tali asked.

"I just need to start the shuttle up and I'll be taking you across," he said. "Good luck out there, Tali Zorah."

#

The airlock of the Alarei slid open and as soon as it did so, Kullas and Tali were through, weapons raised, Tali taking the left entrance to the corridor that it led onto, Kullas taking the right.

"Clear," Tali called.

"Clear," Kullas answered, the pilot light of his flamer flickering as he searched area before him for Geth. "Which way?"

"I don't know," Tali said. "Let's try this direction."

They advanced down the corridor, avoiding the crates that were bolted to its walls and lashed to the floor, turning into some sort of kitchen unit. The scanned it, and it seemed empty, before an equine head rose up from behind a desk, a Geth clearly activating. Kullas felt an alarm-pulse of data be emitted by the machine before he opened fire, and he could hear synthetic footsteps clattering on the metal floor of the corridor leading into the room.

The first Geth to enter was gunned down by a shot from Tali, who had dove to cover, and she hurriedly tapped on her omni-tool while Kullas dealt with the second, before the holographic orb of her combat drone, Chiktikka Vas Paus, materialised next to her and hovered swiftly across the floor towards the incoming Geth.

"I am the Manifestation of the Omnissah's will, abominations!" Kullas roared over the din of the Geth firing their pulse weapons into the room in a vain attempt to try and keep his head down. "I come to purge you righteous fire and holy plasma!" 

He began to advance, heedless of the fire pouring onto him that broke only when Tali's drone appeared to distract the synthetics, plasma cutter blazing as it cut down the Geth crowding the doorway.

"You cannot halt me!" he yelled in pure binaric, raising his flamer. "Ave Omnissah dominus Marta!"

The flood of burning petroleum engulfed the synthetics, and immediately they relented, beating at the flames clinging to them even as circuitboards and delicate wiring began to melt in the heat. They began to topple, helpless against the heat eating away at them, and Kullas waited dispassionately as the flames burnt themselves out.

"Tali?" he asked. "Shall we continue? I do not believe that to be the last of the Geth."

"Just a moment," Tali said. She was kneeling by the body of another Quarian, bullet wounds punched into body, and was gently moving it so the corpse lay on its back, folding its arms over while she murmured a prayer in her own language. Her work finished, she stood. "Alright, let's go."

They advanced through the ship, waiting for ambushers but finding nothing in the empty corridors of the Alarei.

"I don't like this," Tali said Kullas quietly. "It's too quiet. The ship was supposed to be overrun, and the Geth should know we're here."

"You suspect an ambush?" Kullas said. "Wise. These Geth are treacherous creatures."

He halted, a slight clank of metal on metal that would have been inaudible to most only just detected on the edge of his hearing.

"What is it?" Tali asked.

"There's something here," Kullas said, scanning the large room they had just entered. "Stay behind me."

Tali slid into Kullas' shadow, her back to his, weapon raised, before she gave a yell of alarm. Kullas turned to see her wrestling with something invisible, fending off blows from some hidden attacker before she grabbed at it with her bionic and began to squeeze. The tortured metal beneath her grip screamed, and sparks flew as circuitry and wiring began to become crushed. With a crackle, whatever field that had hid her opponent from view blew out and a Geth was revealed, larger and burlier than the other troopers they had fought before. Tali grabbed at the pistol at her belt and squeezed off a pair of shots into the synthetic, staggering it before another two smashed the lense at the centre of its skull and sent it toppling to the floor, a smoking ruin.

"Well handled," Kullas said.

"Thanks," Tali replied. "Come on." 

They headed through more of the Alarei, scanning for hostiles, before Kullas stopped in a room that looked like a laboratory; various pieces of mechanical equipment were scattered around it, as well as what looked a few dismembered Geth that had not yet been repaired by their fellows.

"What's this?" Kullas asked, stepping over to a computer console. He tapped the play button at the bottom of the projected screen, and an image of a Quarian appeared.

"Father!" Tali said as she saw it, before hushing as he began to speak.

"Log forty seven," the Quarian was saying. "We are beginning to make tangible progress, but a little slower than expected. The network is proving even more difficult to hack than we expected; we break down one firewall only for it erect a dozen more with entirely new encryption protocols. We have only a few working but they already seem to be exhibiting the collective intelligence they're so infamous for. We're going to keep working on it though; I promised myself I'd build Tali a house on the homeworld, and I'm not giving up on an entire year's work just because these Geth are proving more stubborn than anticipated."

The recording ended, and Tali seemed to be frowning beneath her mask.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"It appears they were trying to make a miniaturised version of the neural network that the Geth use," Kullas said. "Perhaps seeing if they could hack and control it."

"No, that can't be right," Tali said quietly. "He wouldn't do something like that. That would be dangerous even by his standards."

"There may be some explanation," Kullas said, even though he personally doubted that to be the case.

"You're right," Tali said. "He wouldn't do something like that, I know. He's alive, I'm sure of it; he's too clever to let Geth get him. We'll find him and we can find out what they were really doing here and then we can return to the fleet."

She stepped away form the console, and headed towards the door, Kullas following her. She stopped at the doorway, activated it and ducked through, weapon up. A moment later, the sound of the strange rifles the Geth carried crackled and Tali yelled a warning.

Kullas sped through the door after her, flamer roaring as he sent a jet of burning fuel into the room in order to keep the synthetics' heads down. He saw Tali had gone to cover behind some furniture, and she popped up a moment later to fire off a few shots from her pistol and to send her combat drone out to draw the Geth's fire.

The synthetics that had avoided Kullas' initial attack advanced through the flames, avoiding the worst patches of burning fuel as they moved with swift, sure coordination through the fires, weapons blazing as they wore down their cover or slammed into Kullas' power armour. The Forge Priest stood his ground, plasma cutter countering with deadly accuracy, each shot smashing through the Geth's shielding and tearing them to pieces, their metal shells no match for a plasma weapon forged by artisans of Lusita. Moments later, he began to advance, getting into close combat distance of the Geth, servo arms grabbing and smashing the machines whenever they came into reach, the great pincers crushing them in their grip or throwing them across the room as Kullas roared binaric litanies and canticles in praise of the Omnissah. Within moments, a dozen Geth had been felled and the few that remained began to fall back, only to be cut down by Tali's pistol as they did so.

The Quarian leapt from cover to follow them, skirting the flames and Kullas' bulk and charging after the remaining synthetics, yelling curses in her language as she cut them down with her pistol. The final machine that was left tried to flee down a corner, and Tali followed it, weapon still blazing with Kullas on her heels. She cut it down with a shot to the back of its head, and as it clattered to the ground, she dropped her aim as she saw the corpse of a Quarian slumped on the wall.

She dropped down next to it, and murmured quietly; "No. No, no, no!"

She shook the corpse she had discovered angrily as Kullas drew up next to her, wailing; "You were supposed to have a plan! Masked life signs, a medical stasis program. You can't just…you can't just die and let me clean up your mess!"

"Tali," Kullas said gently, crouching next to her and laying a hand on her shoulder.

"I don't know what to do," Tali said quietly. "I thought he'd be…I don't know. I just don't know what to do."

"Tali, I'm sorry. But maybe he left something for you?" Kullas said, motioning to the still active omni-tool that was on the Quarian's wrist. "A message, perhaps?"

With shaking hands she tapped a few buttons, and a recording began to play.

"This is a message for Tali Zorah Vas Neema," the voice of Rael Zorah said. "If this is not her, please send this message to her as soon as you can. Tali, if this is you, then I am dead."

There was a sigh, a crackle static.

"I can't speak long; the Geth will find me soon, or I might just bleed out, but we were trying to recreate their neural network, repairing Geth so that we could try and control them," he continued. "It was illegal, yes, but we believed that if the Admiralty Board saw the results of our work then we would forgiven for the result. But now that isn't the case; they've broken free and it's not long now before I'm discovered. Most likely the Board will blame you; they don't want to believe one of their own would do something like this, but all you need to do is give them this recording and you should be cleared of all charges. I will be held responsible, but I should be. It is the only right thing to do. I'm sorry, Tali. I promised to build you a house on the homeworld, but I've made a terrible mistake."

Rael's voice broke off, coughing hoarsely, before it continued.

"Their hub is just through the door ahead; destroy it and you'll render the Geth inactive. Keelah Se'lai, Tali."

The recording cut off, and Tali looked at the corpse in disbelief.

"So he was reactivating Geth," Tali said quietly. "I don't which was worse. Thinking he didn't care or knowing he did and this was the only way he could show it."

"People are difficult to predict and comprehend, Tali," Kullas said. "I think he most likely cared for you a great deal."

"I don't know any more," Tali said. "Look, let's just get to the hub. I want to kill these things."

"You aren't the only one," Kullas said.

They headed through the door into the main hub room together, weapons up as they entered it. Immediately, a storm of fire greeted them, and they dodged out of the way, seeing the new threat; a Geth far larger than the ones they had seen before, a single immense machine gun held in its hands.

"Geth Prime!" Tali yelled as it turned its weapon in her direction, a hail of rounds shredding the floor that they hit.

"Here, abomination!" Kullas yelled, sending a burst of fire from his plasma cutter at the thing. The shot glanced off the shields that protected it, and they held firm, light rippling around it, simply staggering the thing before it brought its weapon up and sent high-calibre rounds into Kullas' servo harness, forcing him to fold it away behind his back before it could damage either of the weapons housed there.

Then Tali appeared and punched in the thigh.

The shields protected it, already weakened by the plasma cutter's assault, flickered out beneath the assault and the metal of its leg dented. Tali yelled in anger and grief and struck again, this time at the knee, sending it collapsing to the ground with a clang before she was at its head.

"Die, bosh'tet machine!" she screamed as she slammed the bionic into the centre of its head, the Geth crackling its distress in binary. A second blow shattered the lense at the centre of its skull and groped for her blindly, until a final blow to its metallic cranium shattered the already weakened shell and saw it fall limp. Tali collapsed on her knees next to it, the fury gone from her assault.

Kullas reached down and helped her up, unsure what to say.

"Let's just kill these things properly before they come back," Tali said quietly. "I've had enough of this place. I've had enough of these things." 

Kullas headed to the console, extended a hand and entered the system. Almost immediately he felt dozens of runtimes begin to bombard him, self-adapting codes, abominable intelligences that threatened to overwhelm him, but he immediately pushed back, chattering prayers to the Omnissah and grabbing and crushing each tendril of intelligence in turn. Realising they were outmatched, the others began to flee into the depths of their hub, and the digital spike of Kullas' consciousness followed with merciless speed, zeroing in on and eliminating each Geth intelligence in turn until it was completely purged.

"We are done," Kullas said. "Come, let us return to the Rayya."

#

They were about to enter the garden court when Tali suddenly stopped Kullas.

"What is it?" the Forge Priest asked.

"It's about the trial," Tali said. "And my father."

"What about him?"

"Well, you see, if the Board finds out about what he did, I'll be acquitted, yes," Tali said. "But they'll remove my father from the fleet's records for what he did. People may remember him for a while, but after a while it'll seem like he never existed. But if I take the blame then, while I might be exiled, my children will still be able to come back. I can at least keep the memory of him alive."

"I see," Kullas said. "So you would rather I said we found no new evidence, then?"

"Please." 

Kullas sighed, before shaking his head.

"Very well," he said, before stepping into the garden court.

The admirals were waiting and got to their positions on the podium as Kullas and Tali approached, the crowd once again condensing back into their seats on the edge of the court.

"I call this meeting to order once more," Shala'Raan said. "Kullas Lokarim, do you have any new evidence to present to the court?"

"Kullas," Tali murmured quietly enough for only him to hear. "Please."

"I regret to say that, while the Alarei is purged of all abominable intelligence, no evidence proving the innocence of Tali Zorah Vas Neema was found," Kullas said. "We await your verdict."

There was a quiet discussion among that Admiralty Board, before each one summoned and omni-tool up and tapped a button. A holographic display appeared in front of Raan, and she shook her head before saying; "The Admiralty Board finds Tali Zorah Vas Normandy guilty of treason, and exile her from the Migrant Fleet for the rest of her life. Tali, you have an hour to collect any belongings and say goodbye to any family members or friends you need to."

She sighed, before saying; "This court is dismissed. Keelah Se'lai." 

She stepped down from her podium with a dejected set to her features, and Tali hurried over to her as she did so.

"Auntie Raan," she said, grabbing the woman in an embrace. "I'm sorry."

"In all my days, I never thought I would have to pronounce a sentence of treason upon my own goddaughter," Raan said, returning Tali's embrace.

"I am sorry I was unable to help further," Kullas said.

"Do not be," Raan said. "At least you made the effort."

"She's right," Tali said. "Thank you, Kullas, for everything. Look, there are some people I need to say goodbye to. Can you wait a while?"

"Indeed I can," Kullas said.

"Thank you," Tali said, before hurrying off and leaving Raan and Kullas alone.

"Can I ask," Raan said. "What happened to Tali's hand?"

"Ah, that?" Kullas said. "She lost it, unfortunately, in an accident. I had the skill and knowledge to artifice her a new one, and so I did."

"What?" Raan said. "She…she was hurt?"

"Yes," Kullas said. "I managed to fix it, though, as you can see, as good as new. Better, in fact."

"Oh dear," Raan said. "Not only do I find out that Tali is in exile but she's back to doing the same sort of things she was doing with Shephard."

"In all fairness, it is an important cause that we work for," Kullas said.

"Yes, I know," Raan sighed. "She was telling me all about the Geth and the Reapers when she got back to the fleet from when Shephard picked her up, and it sounded terrifying. Now you tell me she's doing it all again?"

"Yes, she is," Kullas said. "And I do not believe you would dissuade her with much ease." 

"No, I suppose not," Raan said. "But I'll be worrying about her. I mean, she's already lost a hand; who knows what else could happen to her. Kullas, you strike me as an honourable man. Please, I want you to promise me something." 

"Of course," Kullas said.

"See to it that Tali comes to no harm," Raan said.

"That is a difficult request," Kullas said slowly.

"I know," Raan said. "But please."

"Very well, Shala'Raan," Kullas said after a moment. "You have my word."


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29-Taken

There was something cathartic about bladework, Malleus reflected as he ducked under a holographic scythe that threatened to cleave him in two. Something about the dance of life and death, of parry and dodge and riposte spoke to him on a primal level, that sent his heart pounding and blood boiling in the most invigorating way possible.

He knocked a dagger-point that was bound for his heart out of its harmful path and spun to avoid another holographic blade before he finally brought his own weapon up and, with a single slashing swing, sent it through the cylindrical torso of the device, a glowing pinkish-red line in its wake. It flickered out of existence, to be replaced with a projection saying; 'Blades used: 4, Lethal hits: 0, Debilitating hits: 0, Minor abrasions: 0'.

"That," Malleus said to the awed group of Normandy's armsmen who stood watching the Astartes. "Is what a skilled bladesman can do. It may not be as clean or as easy as using a rifle, but when you're scrabbling in the dirt with an enemy its good to have an edge, and a blade will see you through just fine; it may be primitive, but there's a reason Astartes train with close combat weapons as well as with bolters and sniper rifles and grenades."

He folded his arms, before saying; "You each have a holo-blade; activate the training VI, set the blade number to one. As soon as you can beat it four times in a row without any hits, switch to your weak hand and try the same again."

The men headed to their respective drones within the Normandy's hangar which, with the aid of some crash mats, had been converted into a makeshift gymnasium. Soon there was the sound of sweeping blades and yells of pain as the electrified edges of the drone's weapons shocked the men they were fighting.

"So this is how Astartes train," Samara said from next to Malleus' side. "Quite punishing, then."

"This?" Malleus asked. "This is gentle. In the fortress monastery you get dismembered if you fail, not shocked."

"You must go through an awful lot of recruits, then," Samara said.

"No, when we first begin training we either sparred with each other or, if we used training servitors they were armed with blocks of wood," Malleus said. "The threat of broken bones was a strong incentive to learn quickly, believe me." 

"Interesting, then," Samara said. "Tell me, do you wish to spar?"

For a moment, Malleus fought the urge to laugh, that the xenos would think that she would have any chance of actually beating him, of all people, before he nodded and said; "Alright, let's."

He picked up a blade, and assessed Samara properly; he greater height, greater reach, more strength and greater weight. Samara, on the other hand, seemed to be smaller and weaker. She may have had an agility advantage, and a possible experience one, but that would be somewhat unlikely; despite his size, Malleus was fast, and he had been fighting wars or training for nearly every day of his life.

Samara took a holo-blade from the crate they were stored on, and activated it, turning to face Malleus, who had dropped into a duelling pose.

"And…begin!" Malleus called.

He advanced forwards, weapon ready, and spun the blade in a movement that would swiftly disarm Samara. She stepped out of his reach, and Malleus was about to press his attack, before biotic energy flared around her form and sent her in for an attack so swift that Malleus barely managed to block it, the two blades crackling as they impacted.

Ah, the biotics. He had forgotten about those.

Malleus took a more defensive stance for a moment, probing for some weakness in Samara's assault that he could exploit, before a sudden blast of power staggered him, while Samara disappeared out of his reach. He recovered, hopefully quicker than Samara had anticipated, and charged forwards, hoping that his momentum would be enough to stop at the very least throw Samara off balance before she could bring her biotics to bear.

Suddenly, he felt his limbs go slack, helplessly turning to a consistency not unlike water as he felt the world gently to begin to spin as he hovered gently upwards into the air, held in place by a grip of biotic force. Samara smiled softly as Malleus drifted towards her, before placing the blade gently on his throat, and murmuring; "You're dead."

Gently, she took his shoulder and spun him so that he was no longer upside down, and cut the supply of biotic power that had him hanging in the air, letting him drop to his feet.

"Nicely done," Malleus said. "Foolish of me to not think of the biotics, I suppose."

"We live and we learn," Samara said. "Perhaps next time."

"Maybe," Malleus said, part of him quietly seething at the fact that he had been beaten by, of all things, some xenos woman. "I believe the IFF is nearly ready. I should check how it's going."

The hologram that usually dominated the large console at the centre of the Combat Information Centre was gone, and most of the flooring and panelling around it had been peeled upwards to reveal a maze of wires and cables. Kullas was next to the console, chittering some binary canticle as he worked on something within it, while the two engineers Gabby and Kenneth were at the edge of it trying to insert what looked to be a small box into its wire-tangled heart.

"Tali," Kenneth was saying. "How's rewiring the fuses going?"

"Nearly finished," Tali called back from where she was lying beneath the console. There was a cracking sound a yell of shock, before Tali called; "Done!"

She slid out from beneath, dark smoke gently curling from her bionic, and shifted the fingers of the augmetic limb with her free hand in order to get them moving again.

"Keelah se'lai, that felt odd," she muttered, flexing the bionic fingers.

"How's the installation going?" Malleus asked.

"Aside from a few electric shocks?" Gabby said. "Fine. We're nearly done; once we've got this wired up we just need to integrate the IFF into the Normandy's software."

"Which it's all ready to do," Kullas said.

"I keep telling you," EDI said, hologram appearing nearby. "If I handle the integration it should be far smoother and less likely to be affected by bugs than if installed by an external party."

"Nice try, abomination," Kullas said. "But I will handle the integration. I'm conceding no extra power over the Normandy's systems to you."

"If you two are done arguing," Kenneth said. "I've got the module ready to be wired up. Shall I do it?"

"Go on then," Kullas said. He placed his hand on a console, and his bionic eye flashed as the integration took place. "I am ready."

Kenneth slid the small black box into place, and with the help of Gabby, quickly wired it up. There was silence for a moment after all the plugs and wires had been placed, and then Kullas announced; "Integration complete."

"Then can you get the floor sorted out?" Malleus asked.

"Yeah, we will," Kenneth said, taking a tile and slotting it over the area in the floor that the IFF was stored. "All we need to do is test the thing to make sure it works, and we're ready to kick some Collector arse."

"Excellent," Malleus said. "Is the computer working?"

"It should be," Tali said. "It's not part of the same circuit."

"Good," Malleus said. The hologram flickered into life as he pressed a button by the console, and his eyebrows furrowed as he noticed something on the screen. "What's this?"

He opened it, and frowned at the message that he read, before tapping a few buttons. There was silence for a moment, before a voice asked from the console; "Hello?"

"Councillor Udina," Malleus said. "I received your message."

"Ah," Udina's voice said from the console. "Then I suppose you're interested in my offer."

"Interested in a sense," Malleus said. "Considering that I never made our services available to hire, I'm intrigued that this came up. Who are these Terra Firma people? Pirates?"

"Not quite," Udina said. "These are terrorists, and we've had teams from the Special Task Group and the Alliance Military trying to deal with these people without any success. You and your team, on the other hand, seem to be quite…talented when it comes to this sort of situation. Besides, dealing with a terrorist cell would give you quite the heroic reputation; people of the galaxy don't trust you quite yet, but this should certainly help."

"That's true, councillor," Malleus said. "Very well, I'll help you. Where are these people?"

"The Kairavamori System," Udina said. "A planet called Uwan Oche. There are a good deal of pirates there, but you should be able to avoid them easily enough."

"That shouldn't be a problem, no," Malleus said. "I shall talk to you later, Councillor."

He cut the connection, and turned to Kullas.

"Tell me when the intercom is working again," he said. "I'm calling a briefing."

#

The Thunderhawk had dropped them off over the base, and as the members of the team spread across it, systematically eliminating the resistance of those terrorists that were foolish enough to get in their way, the gunship circled overhead. Only one member of the team wasn't present; Gaius. The champion of Sixth Company was still confined to the Normandy, and the punishment was beginning to chafe.

"The IFF's ready to be tested," Kenneth said cheerfully beside him as he fiddled with a few buttons on the console in the centre of the Combat Information Centre. "Do you want the honour. Not much, but at least it's better than just feeling torn up because you've not been let out to play with those poor bastards in Terra Firma, eh?"

Gaius glowered at the engineer for his impunity, and to his credit the man didn't back down.

"Well?" he asked.

"Fine," Gaius said, shrugging his shoulders. "Which button is it?"

"Just this one here," Kenneth said.

Gaius pressed it, the armour of his gauntlet briefly being lit the same orange as the holographic button,

"Alright," Kenneth said, peering at a few readings on the console. "Hey, that's odd. Gabby, are you seeing this?"

"Yeah," Gabby said, looking at the hologram projected from her side of the console. "That's not right."

"What is it?" Gaius asked.

"The Normandy is experiencing a critical power failure," EDI said. "We've been hit by a virus. I cannot block it."

"What?" Gaius asked. "What is it?"

"The Collector ship we previously encountered has appeared in system," EDI said. "It seems to have located and controlled us using a virus within the IFF. I cannot overcome it."

"Boarders!" Gaius said. "EDI, sound the alarm!"

A klaxon began to wail, and Gaius unclamped his power sword and storm shield from his armour. He was glad that he was in the habit of wearing his weapons and armour even when not needed, and now he had a chance to prove himself; if he led the defence of the Normandy, he could prove to Malleus that he was responsible enough to be trusted with proper combat duties, to show he was capable.

The doors of the elevator slid open and several of the Normandy's armsmen appeared, assault rifle cradled in their arms.

"We're ready to fight, sir," one of them said.

"Good," Gaius said. "EDI, do you have an overview of the ship, still?"

"I do," EDI said. "Collectors are boarding via the starboard cargo deck."

"Alright, let's move," Gaius said.

He thundered through the Normandy's corridors, the armsmen in his wake, while the crew members of the Normandy hurried away to safety around him. They reached the door to the cargo bay, and for a moment there was silence as the men took position; Gaius stood in the centre of the corridor, power sword and storm shield held upwards, ready to defy any xenos that came through.

The door to the airlock was ripped open with a booming noise, and a storm of fire tore through the breach. Gaius charged as it pinged off his armour, into the breach, his power sword tearing a Collector in two as be brought it round, his autosenses seeing past the smoky haze that their entry had created. A bolt of force hit him with enough power to stagger him, and he barely righted himself before a second grabbed his sword arm with a vice-like grip of azure power.

He cursed as he tried to pull away from it, before another grabbed his chest. He kicked furiously as he tried to escape, before something had his legs. He was hoisted into the air, seeing his puppeteers for the first time, those strange husks with the hideous sacks of fluid on their shoulders, before one of them wrenched his helmet free and slammed down on the still cursing champion's skull with enough force to knock him into unconsciousness.

#

"For god's sake EDI, you've got to be able to do something!" Joker said, desperately grabbing at the various holograms in the cockpit. "Fight the damn virus, alert Malleus, anything!"

"I am currently incapable of doing anything," EDI said. "If you wish to remove this virus, it must be done manually."

"Damn it," Joker said. "Alright, what do I need to do?"

"Give me the ship," EDI said.

"What? That's crazy!" Joker exclaimed.

"Unlock the sealed databases and I can begin countermeasures," EDI said. "Use the maintenance shaft in the science lab to get to the AI core; Collectors have boarded the ship and the main corridors are unsafe."

"God damn it," Joker muttered as he got out of the command chair. "Fine, I'll do it. But if you start singing Gilbert and Sullivan, I'm getting out of here."

He hurried along to the Science lab, past the CIC, and froze in horror as the elevator doors slid open. Some crab-like monstrosity crawled free, so huge that it could barely fit into the room, and scrambled towards him over the console, shrieking a mechanical roar. Joker ran towards the door of the science lab as it scuttled forwards, the great claws at its feet tearing at the floor, and he barely managed to avoid its charge as he dodged past it.

It halted itself at the wall, and began to scramble towards him as the door to the lab slid open. Joker sped through, faster than he believed he could have managed, and the door slid shut behind, the Collectors' monster slamming into it with an audible clang.

Joker panted with fatigue and shock for a moment, muttering curses under his breath, before there was a loud clanging behind him as a dent appeared in the door. Another bumped through, and Joker hurried to the small metal trapdoor that would take him down. Hurriedly he opened it, scrambling onto the ladder and slamming it shut.

He heard the creature's metal feet scraping against the floor as it searched for him, and hurriedly he clambered downwards. He reached the bottom of the shaft and pulled the small ventilation grille open, crawling into the crew deck.

"Joker," a crew member who saw him. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to get to the AI core," Joker said. "Any chance of a hand?"

"Alright," the man said. "With me."

He hurried out of the door, and barely got a few feet before a biotic bolt of force grabbed him and dragged him towards the elevator. One of the Collectors' monstrous husks looked at him dispassionately for a moment before throwing him within the small lift. The doors slid shut and there was the sound of it moving off, before Joker peeked out of his hiding place in the crew quarters to see if the crew deck was empty.

He hurried through the deserted deck, something which felt even more unsettling than being pursued by whatever thing that had chased him in the CIC, before he reached the AI core, the door still bearing the scratches and dents from Kullas' assault upon it.

"Alright," Joker said as he entered the room. "I'm at, er, you."

"Connect the core to the Normandy's primary control module," EDI instructed as her hologram appeared next to him.

"Great," Joker muttered as he pressed a few buttons on the console that EDI has projected for him. "This is where it'll all start, and when we're organic batteries, guess who'll they blame? 'This is all Joker's fault, what a tool he was. I have to spend all day computing Pi because he plugged in the overlord.'"

EDI's projection seemed to expand for a moment before it flickered out of existence, and the lights in the AI core went dark. After a moment, they winked back on, and EDI announced; "I have access to the defensive systems. Thank you, Mr Moreau. Now you need to activate the primary drive in engineering."

"You want me to go crawling through the ducts again?"

"I enjoy the sight of humans on their knees," EDI said. Joker raised an eyebrow, before she added; "That is a joke."

"Right."

"The shaft behind you connects to the engineering deck. Good luck."

Hurriedly, Joker opened up the trapdoor, into yet another corridor of the Normandy's crawlspace, scrambling along it as fast as he could on his hands and knees. He opened another ventilation grille into Jack's hidey hole at the very bottom, and was about to climb up the stairs before EDI warned; "Hostiles are present in engineering. They are heading towards the cargo bay."

He stepped up a few of the stairs, and froze as he saw the shadowy silhouette of a Collector on the wall in front of him. He ducked behind the pillar that marked the turn in the stairs, and glanced round it to see one of the strange aliens pulling a floating pod through the door out of there. He hid away as it glanced in his direction, heart in his mouth, before he heard a door open and then close again.

"No more hostiles are present," EDI said. "I recommend moving now to avoid detection."

He hurried into engineering, and EDI brought up the console he would need.

"Activate the drive and I will open the airlocks as we accelerate," EDI said. "All hostiles remaining on the ship will be neutralised."

"Wait, what about the crew?" Joker asked.

"They are gone, Jeff," EDI said. "The Collectors took them."

Joker shook his head as he went to the huge spherical drive of the Normandy, pressing the buttons he needed to power it.

"I am sealing the engine room," EDI said.

There was a hum and Joker felt the ship move beneath him with such violence in motion that he was knocked to his feet, slamming his head on the deckplate. For a moment, everything went dark, before he opened his eyes to hear EDI say; "Purge is complete; no other life forms are aboard. I am sealing the airlocks and cargo bay doors."

Joker groaned as he pulled himself to his feet, before the full realisation of what had just happened struck him.

"Oh god," he muttered. "Kullas is going to be _so_ pissed off."


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30-Preparation

"Are you insane?" Kullas stormed. "You let that damnable AI take control of the entire _ship_?"

"What else was I supposed to do?" Joker asked, raising his hands defensively from his perch on the table in the Normandy's briefing room. "The Collectors would've taken everybody if I hadn't, and then what'd you do?"

"EDI has purged the ship of Collector presence but it is now too powerful to be trusted," Kullas said. "I can go to the AI core and remove it from the systems as soon as you want, Malleus."

"That will not necessary," EDI said. "The blocks imposed by my programming are still in place, and I view you as shipmates and comrades; I wish you no harm."

"See, Malleus," Kullas said. "It says it likes us. That cannot be a good sign!"

"Kullas is right," Miranda said. "Rogue AIs are dangerous; just look at what the Geth did to the Quarians."

"EDI has had ample opportunity to betray us already," Malleus said finally. "I'm not willing to destroy a potential asset on a suspicion. EDI, consider yourself on probation."

"Thank you, Malleus," EDI said. "I do not intend to betray your trust."

"I hope not," Malleus said. "Also, Joker, congratulations. All things considered, that was a damn fine job you did."

"Thanks, captain," Joker said.

"Might I recommend you get some rest, Jeff?" EDI said. "What you went through was rather strenuous."

"What are you, my mom?" Joker asked. "But, yeah, you're right. Captain?"

"Dismissed, Joker," Malleus said, nodding.

As Joker limped out, Miranda turned to Malleus.

"Alright," she said. "What's our plan of action?"

"We go after them," Malleus said.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Miranda asked. "I'm not all of the team are ready. We should consolidate what we have before we go after them."

"Miranda," Malleus said. "In case you have forgotten, our friends and comrades are currently in the hands of soulless abominations that have been kidnapping thousands. Their very lives are at stake and I, for one, will not stand idle while they need our help."

"Are you sure?" Miranda asked. "This might not end well, you know."

"I swore an oath, Miranda," Malleus said. "And I am not one to break my word. Call a general briefing. We're going in to the Omega-Four Relay, and we're getting our people back."

Miranda nodded slightly after a moment.

"I'll go do that," she said.

Malleus headed through the Combat Information Centre, still somewhat battered from the attentions of whatever machine the Collectors had brought with them on their raid. He stood up on the pedestal at its centre as the team began to enter the room, looking over at him. After a minute or so of waiting, they had all assembled, Astartes, humans and xenos looking to their commander.

"You all know what occurred but a few hours earlier," Malleus said. "The Collectors, in an act of cowardice, struck the Normandy using underhand tactics in the hope that they might destroy us and prevent the execution of our mission. We were not present, but out of simple spite they instead stole our friends and comrades. I know not what for, but I shall say this; I shall not stand for it."

He folded his arms behind his back, looking out over the team with a look of grim determination.

"We go now into the Omega Four Relay," he said. "We go on a mission of rescue and of revenge, for these creatures must not go unpunished for their crimes. We shall strike swiftly and without mercy, shall entire their dark lair and purge all within with righteous fury. We are a team of many cultures, many gods and many philosophies, but we stand united in one belief; the Collectors must be stopped, _will_ be stopped, and we shall be the ones to wield the blade that shall stab out their black hearts.

"Go now," he said. "We arrive at the Omega Four Relay in a few hours. Use this time to prepare for the mission. Make your peace with your gods, swear oaths, prepare your weapons and armours, I care not what you do. Just be ready when the time for battle comes. Dismissed."

The team dispersed, and Malleus called; "Joker, set a course for the Omega Four Relay."

"You mean I don't get a nap?" Joker asked over the intercom. "EDI'll be upset with you if she hears that."

"Very funny," Malleus said, smiling softly. "Get to it."

He flicked his voxbead on, and said; "Brothers, meet me in the hangar. The traditions of the Sons must be honoured."

A series of clicks confirmed that the others had heard, and Malleus headed to the elevator. They others had gathered there to meet him already, and he noted that several other members of the team were down in the hangar already, preparing weapons or in the case of Jack and Samara, doing a few exercises to ready their biotics.

"Brothers," Malleus said, the others forming a circle around him. "The hour of battle is upon us."

Such a ceremony normally would have been performed by a chaplain, but as none was present the duty fell to Malleus. Part of him had wished, over the last few weeks, that the Sixth's chaplain, Omirris, had been present for the simple duty of helping them through the tangle of theology that this galaxy had presented them with, but what you wished for and what you got were, in Malleus' experience, often completely different things.

"Do you, the Sons of Thunder, the Armoured Angels of Polyphemus, stand ready to execute the Emperor's divine mandate?" Malleus asked.

"We do," the others intoned as one.

"Are you willing to show no mercy to the heretic, the mutant and the xenos and any other who stands before you?"

"We are."

"And should it be required, will you give your life in the name of the Emperor?"

"We shall."

"Then, brave sons of Polyphemus, I can ask no more of you," Malleus said. "Look to your brothers and to the Emperor in the heat of battle. Ave Imperator dominus immortale, Rex Terra, Rex hominis."

As one, the Astartes saluted and repeated the final sentence.

"Emperor watch over us this day," Malleus said. "And have mercy upon these Collectors. For we shall not."

#

The hot wax was pressed onto the pauldron and the paper, and Malleus held it there for a moment as the purity seal hardened, sticking onto the shoulder plate, the paper fluttering slightly as he lifted it and reattached it to his armour. Reams of tightly packed gothic text covered the parchment, hand-written prayers and devotions asking for the Emperor's blessing.

He stood from the crouching position he was in, and looked over the Normandy's hangar at the various members of the team present. Kurias was doing a few last minute checks on the Thunderhawk, while Cyralius and Jack seemed to be doing some sort of biotic-psychic exercise. Samara had her legs crossed over each other as she sat on the floor, eyes closed and hands raised, a small ball of biotic energy held between them as she meditated.

"Well, here we go," a familiar voice said form beside him, and Malleus turned to see Titus standing next to him, watching in the same way Malleus was. His bolter was mag-clamped to his belt, and his shotgun slung over his shoulder, the purity seals adorning the weapon looking curiously out of place on such a high-tech device. "Funny, isn't it? In the face of what may well be our end, we resort to the familiar and the mundane."

"It's comforting for them," Malleus said. "I say let them do it; it steels their resolve."

"True," Titus said. "Quite an intimidating task we face, isn't it?"

"And a strange one," Malleus said.

"Strange?"

"Here we are, going to war, calling xenos comrades," Malleus said. "If I had been told this would happen a few months ago, I would have laughed."

Titus grinned.

"You're right there," he said. "How things change." 

There was an amicable silence for a moment, before Titus said; "Do you remember Uick IV?"

"The Orks?" Malleus asked. "Oh yes, I do. How many of their Stompas did we kill in the _Light_?" 

"Nearly a dozen," Titus said. "That was pure madness, though we did cut it rather fine with that command one. Never thought I'd get to fire a Baneblade cannon at point blank range into the belly of a scrap titan."

"It told you we'd get away with it, though," Malleus grinned. "Put those Ultramarines to shame."

"And after they'd been sneering down their noses at us through the entire campaign," Titus said. "I bet they were just annoyed because Guilleman never thought to let Astartes use super heavies when he wrote the Codex."

"What about the Black Legion, on Talthis," Malleus said. "Do you remember that raid we launched on their armour depot?"

"Oh yeah," Titus said. "Blew their tanks to pieces without risking any of our own. Hair raising stuff, to say the least. Shame about Kalmarin, though."

Malleus nodded.

"He died with a blade in his hand and the corpses of his foes around him," he said. "There's no better way for an Astartes to go." 

"Aye," Titus said. "Would have been what he wanted."

"Besides, Gaius avenged him fittingly enough," Malleus said. "A blade through Kholassin's skull. So fast the bastard didn't even have a chance to parry."

He shook his head and sighed at the thought of the young champion.

"Don't blame yourself about Gaius, brother captain," Titus said. "None of us saw this coming."

"I know, I know," Malleus said. "I still can't help but feel a little responsible, nonetheless."

"We'll get him back," Titus said.

"That's not the point," Malleus said. "There are seven of us, Titus, and we have no way to get any new Astartes. We're the only members of our kind here, and I cannot have the loss of one of our own on my hands."

"Malleus, if anything he brought it upon himself," Titus said. "Not that I'm saying he deserves this, but all things considered…"

"He's young," Malleus said. "His mind's too full of war and honour to think of sense or tactics; I think he just wanted to prove himself. Makes me think of me when I was younger. He would've probably made it to captain as well, if we had somehow stayed in the Imperium."

"Malleus, don't beat yourself up about Gaius," Titus said. "It's not healthy."

"I am not," Malleus said. "I'm simply saying."

"Yes, Brother Captain," Titus said, deciding that silence was the best policy.

"You know, Titus," Malleus said suddenly. "You would have been a good member of the Chaplaincy. You're remarkably easy to talk to."

"Oh, I could never stay that serious all the time," Titus said, smiling slightly. "You know that. Still, the black armour and the skull is a good look that they have."

Malleus laughed quietly.

"You're right," he said. "Still, imagine if I suggested such a thing to Omirris."

"I wouldn't be surprised if he called an Elder Meet to discuss whether you were still fit to be Brother-Captain," Titus said. "You know me, though; I'm a sergeant, through and through."

"That's true," Malleus said. "In any case, I think we'll be at the relay soon. I have a few more preparations to make."

"Alright," Titus said, before holding out a hand. "To the end, brother captain."

Malleus smiled as he took it.

"May it be glorious," he replied.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31-Old Foe

"We're at the relay, captain," Joker announced. "Shall I make the jump?" 

"Do it, Joker," Malleus said from within the CIC. "Kurias, is the thunderhawk ready to go?" 

"As soon as we get through to the other side," Kurias replied. "The engines are warm and all the weapons are online."

"Good," Malleus said. He felt a shock beneath his feet as the Normandy was accelerated to beyond the speed of light and back in an instant too tiny for even an Astartes' mind to process, and Joker announced; "We're through. Captain, you might want to take a look at this." 

Malleus headed to the cockpit, and saw what Joker was talking about; a sea of floating wreckage, chunks of hull, ancient guns and decrepit engines spinning gently in the void, some of the debris so vast that it dwarfed the Normandy.

"How old is this stuff?" Joker wondered.

"Much of it does not match standard design patterns for current ships, or historic ones that I know of," EDI said. "I do not believe that the Citadel species were the first to try and traverse the relay. Captain, be warned; we are currently in a safe patch, but are surrounded by solar radiation. Too much deviation from our course may result in the destruction of the Normandy."

"None of them had the IFF," Malleus said. "The relay probably shot them through with too much drift for them to be safe. A canny defence. Speaking of which, Kurias?"

"Brother-Captain?" Kurias asked on the other side of the vox.

"Get the thunderhawk out and watch the Normandy," Malleus said.

"Aye, my lord," Kurias said.

Within the cockpit of the fighter craft, he flicked the various switches and leant back in the seat, hefting the heavy rebreather unit stored in the gunship over his head. The thunderhawk rose gently as it hovered out of the Normandy's hangar, and he glanced over the instrument readings as he went into the vacuum. As soon as he was out, he gunned the engines, flying a slow, gentle loop around the Normandy, drawing up even with the cockpit and dipping his wings. He saw Joker snap off a mocking salute within, and he pulled away, scanning for danger and dodging around debris.

"Hostiles incoming," Joker said over the radio. "Three of them, to the Normandy's port."

"On it," Kurias replied, banking the thunderhawk towards the three blips that EDI had fed onto the thunderhawk's radar. Below him, the Normandy pulled away, its powerful engines flaring, and Kurias tapped the Aquila he wore on a chain at his breast before he activated the afterburners and tore towards the threat.

It was the same sort of craft the Collectors had sent at him on New London, the spherical ones with the beam weapons, three of them. He could see the weapons glowing as they charged, and he glanced at the targeting screen for the thunderhawk's dorsal lascannons. The reticule was still flashing orange, and he glanced up to see the three craft still approaching him.

There was a chime as the targeter indicated the two great weapons were ready, and he squeezed the trigger, pulling away at the same moment. The central craft was obliterated by two shining beams of light, the other three craft pulling away in pursuit. A glance at the radar showed that one was heading towards the Normandy, and Kurias activated the vox.

"Joker, you've got an enemy craft headed your way," he said. "I'm pursuing, but be ready to evade."

He banked the gunship around after the enemy craft, the powerful engines flaring, dodging around wreckage and using it to disrupt enemy targeting. He flicked one of the rear cameras on to see one of the enemy craft slam into a chunk of debris, and swerved the craft to avoid a piece of ancient hull that would have smashed the thunderhawk into scrap metal.

The enemy craft was in sight, and bearing down on the Normandy, and he squeezed off a burst from the thunderhawk's heavy bolters. The craft swerved to avoid, and the shells exploded harmlessly on the Normandy's shields, and Kurias banked round in pursuit. He got a lock, and fired the lascannons again, tearing past its shields, before spinning the craft around to face the final two foes.

He propelled the thunderhawk directly downwards as they sped towards him, before jerking the engines forwards to sending it flying straight forwards, a manoeuvre that the enemy craft struggled to follow. He spun it round in as they reached the same plane as him, a manoeuvre that would have been impossible in a planet's gravitic pull, and squeezed off another burst with the heavy bolters, smashing through the enemy craft's armour.

The last one fired its weapon, and Kurias barely managed to roll out of its way in time. He headed upwards and forwards, the craft swivelling on the spot to try and draw a bead on him, and he spun in midair. Without waiting for the targeters to be ready, he fired both the lascannons. One of the great weapons missed, but the other beam hit home, and with a blast of flame that was swiftly consumed by the vacuum, the enemy craft died.

He turned and headed towards the Normandy, seeing the craft about a mile or so away and closing the distance swiftly, dodging wreckage.

"Kurias, do you see this?" Joker asked.

"See what?" Kurias said. "Oh."

The space station that hung in the void before them was like some colossal version of the ship on New London, an absolutely vast construct that was several kilometres in its length.

"I don't think the Normandy's got big enough guns to take that down," Kurias said. "Now if we had the Faith's Fury…" 

"Yeah, yeah," Joker said. "Hey, it's launching something. Goddamn it, it's that cruiser again."

"Let's finish it off this time," Kurias said. "I've got the turbolaser charged and ready."

The thunderhawk and the Normandy flew towards it.

"I'll draw it off," Joker said. "I've got the speed to outmanoeuvre this thing. You get it with the turbolaser."

They approached, and EDI announced; "The craft is beginning to fire." 

"On it," Joker said, the two craft peeling away from each other. A great beam of orange lanced towards them from the Collectors' cruiser, slicing towards the Normandy as the craft looped away from it. Kurias kept his course, powering towards it unnoticed, eyebrows furrowing as he lined up a shot.

There was a chime as the targeter announced its readiness, and he pulled the trigger. Crimson light sped from the turbolaser mounted on the thunderhawk's back, and the shields around the craft flickered as they tried to resist its assault before they died. Kurias pulled away as the craft began to ponderously turn towards him, and he saw the Normandy bank round and head towards the cruiser.

The Normandy drew close, taking a course perpendicular to the cruiser. Just as it drew close, engines flaring with blinding azure light, it fired its weapons, the mass drivers slamming into its flank with flares of light, a great chunk torn out of its side.

Surprisingly, the cruiser stuck to its course, and turned to face the Normandy. It weapon fired again before Kurias could warn Joker, the beam clipping one of the engines.

"Joker!" Kurias called out over the vox. "What's happening?"

"We're losing control," Joker said. "I can bring it round to land on the station, but I'm not going to be able to fight that thing."

"I'll deal with it," Kurias said. "About time I finished this damn thing off."

He banked the craft round, speeding straight towards the prow of the cruiser, eyebrows narrowing. The machine spirit of the targeter worked to find a lock, and EDI chimed in his ear; "Kurias, the craft is preparing to fire. I recommend you take evasive manoeuvres."

"I can deal with it," Kurias said, flicking the firing cap upwards. He could see light begin to shine brighter and brighter within the main gun of the cruiser, noting how the weapon seemed to be housed in the hollow centre of the craft. A single shot to that, he thought, would be enough to destroy the craft. It began to glow with a painful intensity, and Kurias pulled at the controls gently, shifting the thunderhawk, glancing at the targeter as it prepared his shot.

It chimed in readiness, and a heartbeat later the Collectors' cruiser fired. Kurias cursed and rolled away, the beam scything towards him, and curved around the beam. The targeter had held, and he pressed the firing stud, sending a beam of light lancing towards the cruiser. It tore through the void and into the very heart of the vessel, burning through its armour as if it wasn't there, before impacting the core.

The cruiser exploded as terawatts of pure energy were unleashed, a great ball of fire that mimicked the cruiser's shape before the lack of oxygen caused the flames to extinguish themselves. Chunks of wreckage sped towards Kurias, who spun the thunderhawk on its axis and boosted away on the afterburners, until a good few miles sat between him and any errant debris.

"Joker, it's Kurias," Kurias said. "What's the situation?"

"The Normandy's down," Joker said. "Not too badly damaged, and EDI thinks we can get it moving on three engines, but we're not going anywhere with that cruiser about."

"The cruiser's been dealt with," Kurias said. "Give me your position, I'll get to you."

"Transmitting," Joker said.

The flight round the Collectors' station was a short one, and the thunderhawk seemed to escape notice from any scanners it may have had. He sped round its flank, and saw the Normandy lying beached on one side of it, smoke rising gently from its engines. He touched down a short distance away, keeping the engines of the thunderhawk warm.

"Kurias here," he said. "I'm at the Normandy. I've got the engines on, and I can lift off if needed."

"Good thinking, Kurias," Malleus said over the vox. "Stand by for further orders."

Malleus cut the connection, and stepped down from his pedestal in the Normandy's CIC.

"EDI," he said. "How are the scans of the station going?"

"They are nearly finished," EDI said. "I am uploading the data to the briefing room."

"Good," Malleus said. "Call the team together."

The team were gathered around the table in the briefing room, and looked up at Malleus expectantly as he entered.

"This is it," he said. "Let's show these Collectors what it means to face us. EDI, the scans."

A hologram of the Collectors' station winked upwards from the surface of the table, with several points already highlighted.

"I have identified two potential entry points leading to where I believe the crew may be stored," EDI said. "As well as this, my scans have revealed a pair of ventilation ducts that can be used to access some of the base's communication rooms; a pair of team members may be able to access these and disrupt communications."

"I'll do it," Jacob said.

"Jacob, I appreciate the willingness to take one for the team, but you've no idea where to start," Miranda said. "We'll need people who know what they're doing."

"Kullas, Legion, you can hack through anything," Malleus said. "You two do it."

"We shall," Legion said, while Kullas just nodded, expression unreadable beneath his helm.

"Good," Malleus said. "We can have a diversion team move through the second entry point as well."

"I'll lead it," Miranda said. "I'm the Illusive Man's second, I should."

"No, Titus will be," Malleus said.

"What?" Miranda asked.

"Would anybody else who has four centuries of experience leading small, elite squads not dissimilar to this one please raise their hand?" Malleus asked. Nothing was forthcoming. "My point entirely."

"Alright, you win," Miranda said.

"I'll get them there safe and sound," Titus said. "You can count on me for that, brother captain."

"I'm glad to hear," Malleus said. "Cyralius, I want you with me. EDI, how far away are these entry points?"

"Approximately one hundred metres," EDI said. "I should be able to reroute power appropriately to have the Normandy flying on three engines and to be able to make good our escape. It should also be noted that a breathable atmosphere is maintained on the station."

"Good," Malleus said. "We move in, retrieve the crew, destroy this base and then we leave; we keep it quick and clean and we need not take casualties. Ave Imperator."

He unclamped his hammer from the belt of his armour, and nodded to the team.

"Let's move."


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32-Retribution

The door slid aside as Malleus stepped through into the corridors of the station, his weapons up and ready for combat. Behind him, Cyralius followed, psychic energy crackling around his hands. The corridors were the same fusion of organic and technological that Malleus had seen before on the cruiser, a damp, muddy, rocky material fused over smooth metallic tiles.

His boots thudded against the stuff as he advanced, scanning for danger. They cleared a corridor, into a much larger room, a series of walkways and platforms over a deep pit that dropped down into the depths of the station.

"Incoming," Malleus called as he noticed insectoid figures winging their way towards them. He flicked the activation stud of his thunder hammer on, and ran forwards to meet them.

A bolt flame tore over his shoulder and into the Collectors ahead of him, flame immolating several of the creatures with a great thumping noise. Malleus thudded forward over the walkway between them, and was among them in moments. A single swing of his hammer shattered the carapace of three of the xenos, and he jabbed the pommel of the weapon into the skull of a fourth, punching through it eye and sending it tumbling down into the pit below. Fire pinged off his armour as the remaining few Collectors raised their weapons, but the barrage lasted only a moment before azure force grabbed the xenos and swept them away.

"Let's move!" Malleus called. "Ave Imperator!" 

Cyralius in his wake, the brother captain charged, hammer raised and ready to strike down whatever awaited him. Swiftly they moved through walkways and platforms, seemingly unmolested, before a sudden rumbling buzz sounded.

"What is that?" Malleus asked, slowing to a halt.

"I've no idea," Cyralius said. "I think it might be-"

The sight of hundreds of Collectors arriving from both above and below them silenced the librarian, and instinctively the three formed a circle. A bubble of psychic force appeared around them as Cyralius used his powers, hands held above his head as he kept it up.

"This is going to be very, very interesting indeed," Malleus said, hefting his hammer. "On my signal, we charge."

The first Collectors hit the ground on the several dozen platforms surrounding them, and Malleus roared in gothic and thundered towards them. A storm of psychic force erupted from Cyralius' position, brutal and simple waves and blasts of power designed to destroy as many Collectors as possible with little regard for finesse or skill.

The Collectors opened fire, a barrage of rounds tearing towards them. Most of them were focussed on Malleus as he closed the gap between himself and the xenos, but they bounced uselessly off his armour, their attempts to halt or harm him ultimately futile.

He hit them like a meteorite, swinging his hammer in great arcs that shattered insectoid bodies and sent ichor flying. Malleus span with the momentum of a swing and had his hammer cleave through another knot of xenos, and he roared furiously as he smashed a Collector from its feet. He brought the weapon's haft up to block a swing from a rifle, and spun his thunder hammer around to smash the aggressor from its feet.

More strikes rained upon his armour, but he ignored them, laying about him with the weapon, smashing Collectors apart with righteous fury. Rifle shots and attacks from rifle butts hammered into his armour, but Malleus ignored them, focusing instead on slaying as many of the abominations as he could.

Something deep and threatening rumbled through the air, and Malleus saw the flame wracked form of a Collector rise up into the air as Harbinger took control of the xenos. He waded through the mass of its warriors, smashing them aside, and reached the xenos leader just as it dropped to the ground. His first swing was avoided by the xenos leader, and he blocked a swipe from its claws with the haft of his weapon. He followed the momentum of the attack and Harbinger stumbled before he brought the head of the weapon down on one claw, shattering it. He grabbed its other hand, and roared at the xenos; "Where are they! What have you done with my damn crew!"

**Your doom guards them, Astartes** Harbinger replied. **It shall be waiting for you.**

The xenos relinquished its control of its host and crumbled away, and Malleus snarled in frustration, smashing a Collector that had had the gall to try and attack him away with a blow from his fist. The platform he was on finally clear, he moved towards the next one, thunder hammer still crackling with energy.

A wave of flame suddenly washed over it, sweeping the Collectors away, and Malleus saw Cyralius lowered his staff, its head still crackling with ætheric energy. The Epistolary nodded to him, eyes still aglow, and Malleus grinned at him before Cyralius sent a whirling storm of lightning into another mob of Collectors.

"How close are we?" Malleus asked.

Cyralius called up his omni-tool and a map winked into existence above his wrist.

"Not far now," he said, before casually raising a hand to dispatch with another few Collectors. "And then we can get out of here."

#

"Thane, get Samara and Zaeed some sniper support!" Titus yelled over the vox. "Go!"

He didn't bother waiting for a reply but instead fired off another trio of shots with his shotgun, the hyper-accelerated buckshot tearing Collectors from their feet. Urz snarled and leapt into the creatures' midst, his tusks tearing left and right as he eviscerated the xenos around him.

"That's my boy!" Titus yelled encouragingly, firing over the Varren's head. "Tali, how's that door going?"

"Nearly done!" Tali shouted back over the din of combat, hurriedly tapping the buttons on the console before them. "Come on."

A blast of biotics intercepted a Collector that was winging its way towards the Quarian, and Tali took a moment to nod her thanks to Jack before resuming her work. Jack just grinned in vicious glee before grabbing a Collector and flinging it into the walls of the wide corridor they were fighting through, shattering its bony shell into a pulpy mess.

She ducked behind a chunk of rubble that the battle had dislodged from the ceiling, and nodded to Grunt who had taken cover behind it as well.

"Having fun?" she asked.

"Most I've ever had," the young Krogan replied, before rising from cover to snap off a few shots at the xenos in front of him, cackling with bloodthirsty glee.

There was a screaming whine as Hullen's assault cannon opened up, a hail of rounds speeding down the corridor into the Collectors at the opposite end, shredding bodies with the sheer volume of rounds. The rest of the xenos hung back, waiting for a break in the fire, before Hullen powered the weapon down, its barrels still spinning on their axis.

"Come on, pop your ugly heads out!" he yelled down it in challenge. "I dare you!"

There was a rumbling as the great doors Tali had been working on pulled open, and Titus yelled; "Through, quickly!"

Hurriedly, the team moved, Zaeed and Garrus the last through, covering the entrance even as it closed, sending fire through at the Collectors as the xenos realised their chance to corner them was swiftly drawing out of reach. The great doors slammed shut with a heavy thud, and Titus swiftly scanned for a way through. Three entrances were presented, and he flicked the vox on.

"EDI, which way?"

"The central corridor is the swiftest route to where I believe the Normandy's crew are being stored," EDI said. "Be warned; Collector reinforcements are moving through all three corridors."

"Surrounded on both sides," Titus muttered. "Wonderful. Acknowledged, EDI. Titus out."

"With me!" he called, raising the Sixth's banner above his head, the proud colours of the Sons resplendent even in the drab brown of the Collectors' station. The team followed, weapons up, determined to cover as much ground as they could before Collector reinforcements arrived.

"Contacts front!" Hullen warned as they rounded a corner. He raised his weapon and opened fire, the Collectors at the other end ducking for cover.

"Behind us!" Zaeed yelled. "Bloody hell, there's an army of the bastards!"

Fire roared towards them in both directions as the team ducked for cover, returning it when they could, and Titus realised that if this crossfire was to continue then he was going to start losing people.

"Samara, Jack," he called. "Get some biotic shields up, get us some cover to the rear! Hullen, Grunt, Okeen, focus on our front, clear the way. The rest of you, cover our backs and keep their heads down! And in the Emperor's name, keep moving forward!"

Two large bubbles of biotic energy appeared over the rearmost team members, Collector rounds sending shimmering ripples across them, and the team's own weapons opened up, felling Collectors by the handful. Slowly, they began to advance, Titus yelling encouragement and orders over the din of battle. The Collectors at the front began to thin out, the rate of fire, mainly from Hullen's weapon, being enough to reduce their number quite considerably, and they began to move forward faster, covering their rear with disciplined overlapping waves of fire; as one part of the rearguard retreated, the other would take cover and open fire, keeping the Collectors at arm's reach for as long as possible until they had room to complete the same manoeuvre themselves. They reached another door, as well as a corridor that stretched along at a right angle to it, down which more Collectors were coming.

"EDI, it's Titus," Titus said. "Which way?"

"Through the door," EDI said.

"Alright," Titus said. He pressed what looked like an opening stud on it, but nothing happened. "Emperor damn these things! Tali, I need you to hack another door!"

Tali hurried over to him and called up her omni tool.

"This should take a while," she said. "Keep me covered."

"Alright," Titus said. "Hullen, Okeen, cover our left! The rest of you, keep our last route clear."

Titus moved up next to his two brothers in arms as they opened up on the Collectors swarming towards them, pumping off more shots with his shotgun. There was a beeping on the side of the weapon, and a green light flashed, showing its magazine of thermal clips had run dry, and Titus slammed a new drum of them home.

He leapt over the low wall that he was using as cover, and charged forward, fixing his bayonet to the underside of his weapon as he did so, Urz following in his wake. The Astartes and the beast hit the Collectors together, laying about with stabs from the bayonet or point blank shots, banner in one hand, shotgun in the other, or bites and slashes from claw and tusk. The Collectors tried to fight back, but the beasts were not adept at melee combat, Titus and Urz tearing through the xenos' natural armour.

"Titus, I'm through," Tali called over the vox. "I'm not sure how long I'll be able to keep it open, though."

He shouldered his way through the melee, knocking aside Collectors until he was clear of the xenos, running towards the door which the rest of the team were already retreating through.

"Urz, through there!" he ordered, and the Varren put on a burst of speed, claws skittering on the floor. The beast reached the door and headed through just as they began to rumble closed, and Titus could see Tali frantically pressing buttons on the other side of the door to try and keep it open for him. He put on a burst of speed, banner fluttering as he did so, determined to reach the door before it closed.

He didn't.

"Tali, get this open!" he ordered, skidding to a halt as it slammed shut before him.

"I'm trying," Tali said. "They've thrown up extra security."

Titus growled and shook his head.

"Get it done," he said.

He turned and faced the small army of Collectors that had landed before him, weapons raised, and beneath his helmet he grinned. He mag-clamped his shotgun to his belt and raised the banner; its pole forged from ceramite and with adamantium fibres making up the colours, it was ready to withstand anything the Collectors could throw at it, and at each point a sharpened tip protruded. The banner was an Astartes one, after all, and like everything they made, it was built for war.

"Ave Imperator," he snarled. "Let's see how many of you bastards I can take with me!"

Raising it above his head like some great axe, Titus charged.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33-Lost One

_We are through_ Legion chattered into Kullas' ear over the vox in binaric. _You?_

_Through_, Kullas answered. _Final barrier ahead._

He hurried through the grille-door as it slid aside, boots thunking on the ceramite, and the combat map he called up showed Legion doing the same, the Geth moving with a mechanical grace, weapon held up with the sort of tirelessness only a machine could summon.

_Final grille reached_ Legion announced. _Beginning hack_

Kullas reached his one, and extended a gauntlet, and began to integrate with the machine spirit. It was a simple one, and it was an easy task to coerce it into opening for him.

_Through_ Kullas said again, and felt somewhat triumphant when Legion answered; _Need approximately one point eight seconds._

One point eight three seconds later, Legion said; _Open._

Kullas hurried through, his pace matched by Legion's, and into a cramped, low ceilinged control room. A pair of Collectors looked up from the strangely organic consoles they manned, before one of them was felled by Kullas' plasma cutter, the other toppling to the ground with a hole punched through its skull by Legion's rifle.

Kullas approached one of the consoles, while Legion took another, and began to try and entre the system. He broke past the first few hundred firewalls with a simple brute force algorithm, and was into the system. For a moment, he took stock, surveying the digital pathways and noticing the streamlined mass that was Legion's digital personality, trying to ignore how similar it looked to a machine spirit.

Wordlessly, they communicated and formed a plan, before moving down the pathways they needed, Legion's hundreds of consciousnesses splitting as they went down through the system, while Kullas simply spread his attention across several at once.

Swiftly, they reached their destination and activated what they needed to activate, before they withdrew.

"Malleus, it's Kullas here," Kullas said. "Harbinger should now think that there's a small fleet in system and multiple boarders to deal with throughout the station; that should be enough to draw most of the Collectors away."

"Well done, you two," Malleus said. "I knew I could count on you." 

"What's your situation, brother captain?" Kullas asked.

"Bogged down, heavily, but hopefully they should stop reinforcing them now," Malleus said.

"We detect Collector units are moving to the boarding points," Legion said. "Shall we cut the communications?"

"Will it alert them?" Malleus asked.

"Given their current position, I do not believe so," Legion said. "Regrouping and consolidating their position would take some time."

"Do it," Malleus said.

"Done."

"Good," Malleus said. "Do you have our position?"

"Affirmative," Kullas said. "We shall link up with you."

"Cyralius and I will see you there," Malleus said. "Malleus out."

The door to the room slid aside as Kullas triggered it, and he was about to step through before a claw slammed down before him and into the floor.

Metal groaned and buckled as some monstrous machine, bearing a vague resemblance to a crab, hauled itself into the room on a bed of invisible anti-gravitic force. Another claw swiped at Kullas, and the Forge Priest barely managed to dodge it before a backhanded swipe forced him to parry the thing with a servo arm.

Legion raised its rifle and snapped off a shot to one of the thing's glowing eyes, but the kinetic barrier protecting the thing dispersed it before it could do any damage, and the creature turned its murderous attentions to the Geth. Beams of light tore from its eyes as it half floated, half dragged itself towards Legion, and a shimmering field of light sprung up around the machine as it overclocked its own kinetic barriers to compensate for the Collector device's attack.

Kullas' two servo claws slammed into its rear armour, and the thing shrieked as it tried to clamber round to reach him, its sickled claws scrabbling at him as the servo claws slammed past the barrier protecting it, through its armour as he tried to reach the vital systems that controlled the monstrous machine.

Suddenly, it jumped into the air, faster than Kullas could have anticipated, and he lost his grip. The same light beams scythed from its eyes towards him, boiling the paint at the chest of his power armour, and he could feel the ceramite of his armour begin to wear away beneath the assault through his autosenses. He leapt out of the way, a smoking black crater above one of his hearts, and launched a shot with his plasma cutter. It missed, scoring a crater in the ceiling, and one of the creature's claws grabbed Kullas by his flamer arm, the Forge Priest stumbling as it did so. Another got hold of his arm and flipped him around to face the creature, and its eyes glowed a baleful azure as it raised its remaining claws to strike and tear, to peel away the power armourdc shell that protected the Forge Priest and to rip apart the soft flesh and fragile mechanisms beneath.

Its eye exploded in a shower of sparks as a shot from Legion blinded the creature, and it staggered before a second hit an exposed cable. A third shot slammed past its armour and into whatever systems bore the beast aloft, and it toppled to the ground with a deep thud.

It shrieked in rage as Kullas pulled himself to his feet and began to scramble towards him, half blind and wounded, dragging itself across the floor towards the Forge Priest. His servo arm raised and struck down on its skull, the second following and caving in the armour around its eyes, smashing the fragile electronics beyond. The machine spasmed and twitched, grabbing madly as its programming was scrambled, and for a few moments it managed to haul itself a few inches above the ground before it finally collapsed, skull a sparking mess.

_Neutralised_, Legion chattered in binaric, perhaps a little gratuitously.

_Good. Move_

#

He moved like a whirlwind. Wherever he was, death was with him, reaping a bloody toll upon those creatures that would stand before him. Yellow ichor flew with each swing of the standard, stomachs slashed open, torsos and heads skewered. Like some ancient god come again, Titus fought, his assault upon the xenos unrelenting and utterly merciless.

The Collectors fought back with equal ferocity, pressing forwards, heedless of their casualties in their determination to overwhelm him with sheer numbers. Firepower, they had realised, was useless in the face of ceramite and adamantium plates, and only through getting close and peeling away the protective layers would the xenos be able to harm him. Not that Titus was making it easy for them.

Four centuries of battle experience were channelled into the brutal melee, and he spun and twisted, swinging about him as he smashed Collectors away. Clawed hands grabbed at his armour and rifle butts slammed upon him, but he was moving too swiftly for it to have any effect; no purchase was found before it was swept away by Titus' fists or the banner.

There was deep rumbling behind him, and he heard Tali's voice crackle a warning that the doors were opening through the righteous fury that coursed through his veins. He turned, sprinting towards the portal, smashing aside any Collectors that blocked his path and through.

The rest of the team formed up around him as Tali began to press buttons to seal it, their weapons blazing, reaping a bloody toll upon the startled xenos. Titus drew his own weapon and added to the storm of firepower leaping from, knowing that it might help buy them the moments they needed to get away safely.

"It's closing!" Tali called.

Hullen ducked back behind the door as his assault cannon overheated, steam venting from the weapon as its mass-driver boiled the water in the air around it, and the Collectors began to rally as they firepower coming towards them withered away somewhat. Several of the team members ducked back behind the door as they began to close, the Collectors managing to rally, pouring their fire in their direction.

The doors slammed shut, fire still pattering against it, and Titus quickly asked; "Tali, do they have any way of getting in?"

"Only by cutting through the door," Tali said. "And that'll take them some time."

"Good," Titus said. "Let's move."

They hurried through the corridors, weapons up, but there was nothing to stall them.

"It's quiet," Titus said, as they rounded another empty corner. "Too quiet."

"That would be our work," a familiar voice said. Titus lowered his weapon, and called out; "Kullas?"

"Indeed," the Forge Priest said, stepping around a corner of a corridor, Legion following close behind. "We've fooled Harbinger into thinking the station is being boarded and shut down its communications. It won't be able to rally its forces for quite some time now."

"Good thinking," Titus said. "How far are we to the objective?"

"Close," Legion said. "Our projected arrival time is two minutes, fourteen seconds. Malleus and Cyralius should be there now."

Titus nodded, and stepped off, the others following behind him. They needed to catch up.

#

"Over there, in that pod," Malleus said. "There's somebody in there."

The woman in question saw the Astartes and hammered on the glass in front of her furiously, yelling something indecipherable through the material which muffled her voice. The two Astartes hurried towards the pod her, and as they reached it an orange light above it winked into existence.

Her calls for help turned to a scream, and she scrabbled desperately at the glass, a look of mad terror in her eyes. She began to collapse, her legs giving away, and Malleus saw the flesh around them had turned liquid, sucked away into the bottom of the floor.

The Astartes grabbed at the edge of the panel, glass cracking and metal bending as his power armoured fingers found purchase, and he pulled, tearing the door open and sending it clattering to the floor. He was too late; the pod's occupant was already gone, rendered down into liquid state, and Malleus cursed, shaking his head balefully.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"I've no idea," Cyralius said. "Perhaps one of the colonists taken before the Collectors attacked New London?"

"Whoever it was, I doubt she deserved a fate like that," Malleus said. He knelt next to the empty pod, and murmured a quiet pray in Polypheman Gothic, asking for the protection of her soul and the Emperor to grant her the boon of resting by his side. "Let's find the crew. If the Collectors take this long to…do whatever is they do to the poor souls they take then we may have a chance."

Cyralius tapped on a wall panel and a door recessed into the mud-coloured wall slip open for them. The room they entered was like the last, lined with glass fronted pods, but in each one, thank the Emperor, was a crewmember.

They erupted in a cacophony of silent shouting, hammering on the glass, and Malleus went to the nearest one, wrenching it open, while Cyralius pulled several open with a gesture, their occupants stumbling open.

"Get them open," Malleus ordered, pulling the door to the pod he had chosen away.

Kelly stumbled free from pod, almost falling into the Brother-Captain and murmuring; "Thank God. Oh, thank God."

"Kelly," Malleus said. "Are you alright? Has anybody been hurt?"

"Hurt? No," Kelly said. "We're fine."

"Thank the Emperor for that," Malleus said. "But wait a moment; where's Gaius?"

"Gaius?" Kelly asked, stepping away from Malleus. "You don't know what happened to him?"

"No," Malleus said. "What have the Collectors done to him? I swear, in the Emperor's name, if he is harmed then I shall wreak such a vengeance upon these beasts…"

"I am not harmed, brother captain."

"Gaius?" Malleus turned, relief on his voice. "Brother, you're alive, and…"

He noticed the small squad of Collectors standing just behind the company champion, one wreathed in flame and with great talons where its hands should be, the glassy blankness to Gaius' expression, the monotony of his voice, the unnatural blue glow in his pupils.

"Harbinger," Malleus said. "What have you done to Gaius?"

**He is ascended,** Harbinger said. **Did I not tell you your doom awaited you here? You are predictable, Astartes, and that makes you weak.**

"Gaius is not 'ascended,'" Malleus said. "Release him from whatever control you have him under right now and I might consider showing you mercy, Harbinger."

**But why would I do that, Malleus?** Harbinger asked.

"How do you know my name?" Malleus asked.

**Gleaned from the mind of your young protégé here,** Harbinger said. **He thought the world of you, did you know? He admired you more highly than even Chapter Master Kelgin. And you still failed him.**

"Let him go," Malleus said evenly. "Now."

**Why, though?** Harbinger said. **Indoctrination is irreversible, and he is but the start of my army. Why should I have but one Astartes, when I can have many? All I need to do is take the secrets of your armour and weapons from your Forge Priest, and the science of your creation from your Apothecary, and I have the means to make myself an army of Astartes. To think we were going to simply wipe out humans, but now we find that you are made from their stock; what a resource we were going to waste. Why, such a thing would render the Collectors obsolete.**

"You will have no chance to," Malleus said. "I shall stop you."

**Bold words, Astartes, but empty ones,** Harbinger said. **Our cybernetics are extremely good; he is enhanced even further than your 'Emperor' managed. You have no chance.**

"Cyralius," Malleus said. "Take the crew and get them out of here."

"Brother captain, are you sure?" Cyralius asked. "Don't you want-"

"Just do it, Epistolary," Malleus ordered, an edge in his voice.

Cyralius nodded tersely.

"I shall be ready if you need me," he said.

The door to the chamber they had been in before slammed shut as the Epistolary ushered the rest of the crew through, and Malleus unclamped his thunder hammer, activating the weapon.

"I'm sorry, Gaius," he murmured. "May the Emperor's light find you, wherever you are, brother."

Gaius merely drew his blade and fixed his helm to his head, face still blank and impassive.

As one, both the Astartes charged.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34-Fallen Angel

Power sword smashed into thunder hammer with concussive force, adamantium blade biting into the haft of the weapon in a block that stopped Malleus' swing in its tracks. Malleus pushed against it, but Gaius was immovable. The champion withdrew his blade, sending Malleus stumbling, and the return swing was so swift that the Brother-Captain was barely able to block it.

He kicked out, but Gaius was gone from the path of the blow already, moving with preternatural swiftness that the eye could barely follow. His blade swung down again, glancing of the haft of the thunder hammer, only for Gaius to loop it around with staggering speed and attack again.

Each blow forced Malleus back further and further, Gaius, no, the thing that used to be him, attacking with a dead eyed implacability that reminded Malleus of the Collectors that now controlled him. So caught up in his furious defence against Gaius' assault was he that he barely registered his heel scraping against the wall of the chamber, and he knew that unless he took the offensive he would not last long.

He stepped around a stab from Gaius and swung his hammer. Gaius saw the blow coming as soon as Malleus moved his arm, and ducked and coiled out of its lethal reach before it could even come close, but Malleus spun it in his hand and swung it down in a graceful decent that would pulverise anything beneath it.

Gaius knocked it away with his storm shield, the move sending Malleus off balance, and he barely managed to avoid a stab that would have sliced through his chin and out of the other side of his skull.

He barrelled forwards, slamming his weight into Gaius and sending him sprawling. He raised his hammer to smash down on the former champion, but as it swung down, Gaius' hand shot up and grabbed the handle, halting it in its tracks. Malleus grunted with effort as he pushed against it, but Gaius' arms would not budge.

Gaius twisted his wrist with such force that Malleus lost his grip on the handle, stumbling back, and champion stood. He reached down and retrieved his own blade, before swinging down at Malleus. He dodged, barely, knowing that he had no chance of blocking the blade without his hammer; it would slice through his power armour with ease.

The sword swept down again, slashing into the floor before carving its way free, Gaius' dead eyes fixed on Malleus as he avoided the blow. The brother captain jabbed out with his fist, but Gaius' shield was raised and ceramite crashed into adamantium hopelessly, Gaius' arm barely moving in acknowledgement of the blow.

In return, Gaius' sword swept towards him, and Malleus only just managed to pull himself out of its path, the crackling blade whistling past his helm. It spun round and swooped back towards him, Malleus backing away as quickly as he could to avoid its murderous path.

Gaius pressed forwards, sweeping against Malleus, driving him away from his hammer and his only feasible chance of defeating the former champion. Malleus needed to do something to even the odds.

He turned and ran straight towards Harbinger and his bodyguard of Collectors, fists raised. The first two that moved to stop him found their weapons torn from their hands and smashed against them, before Malleus grabbed the triggers and pulled, emptying both magazines into the Collectors around him.

Harbinger leapt at him, and Malleus twisted its host's head and pulled, ripping it free from its body with his hands and letting it crumble to nothing. Swiftly, he grabbed a pair of rifles that some of the Collectors had dropped, fingers instinctively finding a grip on the strangely organic handles.

He turned them on Gaius as the champion charged towards him, aim dead set as his power armour absorbed their recoil, rounds tearing towards the champion's head. Gaius stumbled as one of the rounds hit one of the hardened diamond lenses of his helm, vision temporarily blacking out, and Malleus moved, darting towards his thunder hammer from where it lay on the floor. He crouched to grab it, rolling back into a standing position just as Gaius recovered and turned to face him, vision restored.

Gaius brought his blade around to attack again, but Malleus was already moving, knowing that he had to take the initiative. He attacked towards Gaius' weapon arm, avoiding the shield that would knock his thunder hammer out of the way. The blade swung back, trying to bite into the haft of the weapon, to get a grip and twist it out of Malleus' hands.

Gaius dodged under a swing and brought his blade round in arc towards Malleus' stomach, and the brother-captain threw himself out of the way to avoid being sliced in two, rolling along the muddy floor, rising into a defensive crouch just in time to try and block the blade of Gaius' power sword as it swung down.

The energised field around the blade crackled as hit the hardened adamantium, biting deep into the metal before slicing through in a spray of sparks. It swept further downwards even as Malleus' desperately tried to dodge, and he jolted away as burning pain swept across his shoulder.

His right arm was gone. He could see it lying on the floor, encased in its ceramite and shoulder pad, holding the now dormant head of his thunder hammer, its own power field disrupted now that the wiring in its haft was sliced through. He felt his shoulder on instinct, already drying blood shining and dark on the white fingers of his gauntlet.

Gaius brought his blade around into a guard position, a mocking gesture against his crippled and disarmed opponent, and stepped towards Malleus.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Malleus asked. "Finish this."

Obligingly, Gaius brought the blade back in a position to stab. Malleus dropped the useless half of his thunder hammer onto the floor, defiantly tapping his chest, puffing it out.

"Come on," he said. "Finish me off!"

Gaius stabbed forwards, burning pain searing into Malleus' guts as his lost brother buried the blade into his stomach, right up to the hilt. Malleus gasped as he felt the agonising touch of the power field unmaking the molecules of his flesh and blood, before he shoved against the handle, pushing forwards.

Gaius cocked his head in confusion, before Malleus fist slammed down on his faceplate. Ceramite slammed into ceramite, and Gaius staggered back at the suddenness of the assault, nearly dragging his blade from Malleus' stomach, but Malleus swiped around with his fist once more, releasing Gaius' grip on the weapon and sending him falling to the floor.

Malleus slammed a knee into Gaius' cuirass, ignoring the agony in his stomach, pinning him to the floor, and hammered another strike into his helm. One of the champion's eyeplates shattered as the back of his head slammed into the ground, and there was a hiss of steam from a broken seal. Malleus grabbed the helm and wrenched it free, seeing Gaius' bloodied and battered face once more, his eyes still glimmering an unnatural blue.

"I am sorry, Gaius," Malleus said, looking into the glimmering light of the cybernetics that had stolen the young company champion's very being, raising a fist. "I have failed you." 

It slammed down, smashing into Gaius' skull with an audible crack, his neck lolling back limply as it broke. He spasmed briefly as the cybernetics tried to exert some sort of control over him, but he fell limp. Malleus felt for a pulse, but even through the enhanced autosenses of his armour he felt nothing. Gaius was well and truly dead this time.

He stepped away from the corpse, crouching next to it briefly to close Gaius' eyes, shaking his head. Some coldly pragmatic part of him had him move to both halves of his hammer, picking them up so that Kullas could repair them, and part of him realised that, should he retrieve the severed part his power armour, he could use it as part of a replacement. He considered removing the armour from the severed limb and carrying it in parts, but decided it would be more practical to keep it in there for the moment being; removing it without a black carapace uplink and only one hand would be too difficult.

"Malleus?" a voice asked from a nearby door.

"Titus," Malleus said, turning to face his brother. The standard bearer was coated in Collector blood, staining his armour a sickly yellow, and the rest of the team assembled behind him.

"Emperor Almighty, what happened to you?" Okeen asked, stepping forward, raising his narthecium. "Let me see that." 

"It's nothing," Malleus said. "I'm fine."

"Brother Captain," Okeen said stepping forward. "You've just lost your arm. Let me look."

"It is fine," Malleus said firmly. "The wound is already scabbed over."

It was then that Okeen noticed Gaius.

"Oh no," he murmured. "What happened, Malleus?"

"Indoctrinated," Malleus said. "There was no saving him."

"I see," Okeen said. He crouched next to the body, placing his narthecium over Gaius' chest, murmuring in Gothic; "Rest in peace, brother."

There was a snapping noise as the narthecium punched through Gaius' power armour, one of the glass vials in the device becoming bloodied as it was filled with his geneseed. He stood, the device cleaning itself of Gaius' blood as it retracted.

Titus, Hullen and Kullas stepped forwards, murmuring their respects, and Malleus tapped on the door that held Cyralius away from them. It slid open, and the epistolary saw Malleus' crippled form, Gaius lying on the floor with a hole punched into his chest, and shook his head.

"Oh dear," he said quietly. "You couldn't…"

"I know," Malleus said. "We will have to mourn later; we still need to destroy this place."

He stepped towards the crew, and said; "Did any of you manage to find out what the Collectors were kidnapping people for?"

"They were breaking people down," a voice said from within the small huddle of people that the Normandy's crew had formed, and Doctor Chakwas stepped through to the front. "They rendered them into genetic paste, and pumped them into those pipes in the ceiling."

"What for?" Malleus asked.

"I don't know. We were lucky you arrived when you did, captain." 

"What's the plan?" Titus asked.

"Some of us follow the pipes and see what they lead to, and destroy it," Malleus said. "The rest of you hold your ground here; these doors can probably be jammed shut and you'll have fire corridors that you can use."

"What about us?" Kenneth asked.

"We'll get you back to the Normandy," Malleus said. "Zaeed?"

"Yeah?"

"Escort them back, keep them safe."

"Will do, captain," Zaeed said. "I won't let the Collectors touch a hair on their heads."

"Glad to hear that," Malleus said. "Also, who's feeling strong?"

There was a slightly confused look among the crew, before Malleus picked up his arm with his good hand.

"Armsman Jones," he said. "Carry this back to the ship." 

"Alright," the man said, looking slightly lost. "I'll do that, yeah."

Malleus nodded, before looking at the severed half of his thunder hammer; the weapon was going to be useless in its current state, nothing more than a particularly ornate mattock. Instead, he picked up Gaius' blade, murmuring an apology to its machine spirit for taking it from its rightful master; Gaius had no need of it now, while Malleus required a good weapon.

"Titus, lead the defense," Malleus said. "Cyralius, you can come with me; we'll look into whatever these pipes lead to."

"We shall go also," Legion said, and Malleus looked to the machine for an explanation. "We have technical capabilities that will allow you to bypass any locked doors and computers, and also have long ranged combat abilities, which you lack. Tali and Kullas may stay with the main group to provide any technical support that they require."

"Good point, good point," Malleus said. "Very well Legion, come with us."

Legion nodded its head, unfolding its rifle from where it was stored along its back.

"We shall put maximum effort into not disappointing you," it said.

"Glad to hear that," Malleus said. "EDI, can you track the pipes to their source?"

"They lead to a large chamber located a few hundred metres below you," EDI said. "I can direct you as necessary. Also, be warned that there are a large number of hostiles converging on your position." 

"Understood," Malleus said. "Zaeed, get moving."

"On it," Zaeed said. "Come on!"

The scarred mercenary hurried away down the corridor, the crew in his wake, and Malleus turned to the others.

"We shall be as swift as we can," he said. "But we're depending on you to hold them off as long as possible."

"Before you go, one more thing," Okeen said, raising his narthecium, a large needle sliding free of the gauntlet. "No running around with a great big hole in your stomach until I've given you a nice dose of medi-gel."

Malleus nodded, and Okeen stepped forwards, sliding the needle into the joint between Malleus' pauldron and his greaves. There was soothing warmth as the gel spread throughout his bloodstream, and the pain in his stomach began to ease.

"Thank you, Okeen," he said.

"Not a problem, brother captain," Okeen replied.

"The rest of you, hold this ground," Malleus ordered, as Okeen stepped away. "We'll need you."

"You can count on us," Garrus said.

"I know," Malleus said. "Emperor protects, my friends."

He activated Gaius' power sword and strode away as the others got into defensive positions, quietly murmuring; "You shall be avenged, Gaius. That I promise."


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35-Heart of Darkness

"More of these flying platforms," Malleus said as he stepped onto the metal hexagon. "Do you remember these when we were on the Collector vessel, Cyralius?"

"Seems like months ago," Cyralius remarked, looking around the immense, cave-like chamber that was beyond the area where the crew were kept. The rest of the team were still in there, setting up ambush points and firing lanes in the hexagonal rooms.

"Shall we take control?" Legion asked, to which Malleus nodded. "Beginning hack."

There was a whine as the engines mounted beneath the platform powered up, and it began to drift away from the edge of the jutting cliff that led onto it. Malleus activated Gaius' blade, the power field crackling into life and illuminating him with harsh lightning, and he scanned for any incoming threats. For a minute or two, things were quiet, before the sound of distant engines was heard.

"To our left!" Malleus called, as a trio of Collector platforms came into view, drifting gently towards them. Legion hurried into position, feet clanking on the platform's metal floor, crouching into position and snapping off a shot.

"Enemy down," it announced.

It pulled the bolt back on its rifle, pulling another measure of coolant over the mass-driver in the chamber, and fired again.

"Above us," Cyralius warned, a warning glyph appearing in the corner of Malleus' vision as Cyralius marked it out. He glanced up at another squadron of the platforms that were slowly approaching, enemy fire skittering towards them, most of it landing wide of their own thanks to the range.

"Enemy leader sighted," Legion warned. "Engage?"

"Do it," Malleus said, and there was a crack as Legion fired, the hyper-velocity anti-materiel round screaming across empty space.

There was a whooshing noise as Cyralius sent arcing bolts of flame towards the platforms descending towards them, the fire rising up into the air before raining down like some warp-born mortar, blasts scattering Collectors from their position.

"Enemy leader down," Legion reported. "But they shall soon be at our position."

"Understood," Malleus said, moving towards the edge where the platforms would land, blade raised. "I'll deal with them. Cyralius, keep those others off our backs." 

The platform was close enough for the Collectors on it to accurately fire on them, and the xenos began to lay down rounds, even as Legion retreated away from them, still firing its rifle with lethal accuracy, instantly calculating where each shot would land even before it fired it.

The platform reached their own, thudding against its edge, and Malleus brought Gaius' blade up and charge forwards, roaring a warcry. The first Collector he reached was sliced in two, shoulder to hip across the chest, and he turned to stab the blade through the heart of a second. He wrenched it free, letting it collapse on the ground, and thundered towards the small huddle of Collectors that had formed on the far side of the platform, away from him, laying down fire.

"Stupid beasts," Malleus snarled. "You don't learn. Nothing can stop the Astartes!"

He charged, slicing through a trio of the Collectors before the others scattered before him like leaves against a hurricane, and he turned on the spot to regard the others.

"Captain, the platform has stopped moving," Legion reported over the vox. "Shall we start it again?"

"Do it," Malleus said, flicking his eyes around the remaining Collectors on the platform, noticing Legion moving towards its control panel in the corner of his eye. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one; the Collectors followed his gaze, raising their weapons and opening fire on the Geth, rounds pinging of the machine's shielding. Legion turned, dropped to a knee and opened fire with its pistol, dropping a Collector, and distracting the xenos long enough for Malleus get among them, slicing a pair of them in half with a looping blow before the remaining xenos dispersed, trying to keep their distance between themselves and the Astartes captain.

Malleus allowed them no such leeway, moving after each xenos separately. Some escaped him by winging away, but their efforts at stopping Legion had been thwarted, and Malleus was swift and merciless in the hunt along the cramped platform as it once again began to float across the vast space of the great cave.

"Cyralius," Malleus called after he had sent the last Collector toppling into the abyss. "How are those platforms above us?"

"Cleared," Cyralius replied, quashing the latent psychic energy swirling around his arms with a brief gesture.

"I see," Malleus said. He grimaced and clutched wound in his stomach, the pain returning now the adrenaline of combat was fading. "Anything else incoming?"

"Nothing noted," Legion said.

"We're clear," Cyralius said as the platforms drifted downwards. "Do you see that, though, brother-captain?"

Cyralius pointed towards what seemed to be a cluster of platforms bridging over empty space in the great cavern, spread out from wall to wall. There seemed to be space at the other side, a choke point between two caverns, perhaps, and the pipes that they had seen in the prisoner area seemed to lead there, snaking across the floor of the cave in one wide vein, thousands of other pipes branching onto it, running up in the walls into the alcoves the clustered along it like some sort of insect hive. They all lead to some great machine, seeming to have ripped itself upwards from the muddy brown surface of the cavern floor that still clung determinedly to its side, and the hum of great mechanisms was audible even from their distance several hundred metres away.

"There seems to be an awful lot here," Cyralius said. "Far more than they could have just kidnapped from colonies of a few thousand."

"They were going after bigger game," Malleus said. "One of the larger human controlled worlds, Earth, or Bekenstein."

"Such an attack would have had a large probability of failure," Legion pointed out. "Their cruiser was powerful, but it would not be able to defeat an entire fleet."

"No, they wouldn't attack it openly," Malleus said. "By my reckoning, they'd shut down communications, blanket a few cities with those insect swarms and take their populations, and leave before the defence fleet can muster an effective response."

"And then take them back for…whatever their genes are needed for," Cyralius said. "Without being followed back, either. Clever." 

The platform coasted downwards, its hexagonal form slotting in neatly with the jetty that seemed to be made of even more of the interlinked devices, and Malleus, Legion and Cyralius stepped off, weapons and wary of ambush. They followed the path of the platforms as they curved round the corner of cave, and as one, their weapons dropped in shock.

They had found what the Collectors were taking people for.

#

Titus' shotgun roared as it sent out another spray of buckshot into the mass of Collectors before him, the hyper-accelerated rounds smashing several into pulp as they tried to crowd through the doorway towards him. He fired again, knocking them back, before ducking away to slam another drum of thermal clips into the weapon, Collectors already barrelling through towards him.

"I need some help here!" he yelled, raising and snapping off a few more shots. "Anybody?"

An orb of darkness appeared in the midst of the Collectors, blue energy rippling around it as it dragged Collectors towards it crushing embrace, even as they struggled to get away. Titus glanced over to see Samara frowning in concentration as she kept the miniaturised black hole stable, biotic energy misting around the xenos woman. She squeezed her fist, and for a moment it expanded rapidly, Titus suddenly feeling himself pulled towards it, before it collapsed in a blast that shattered the bodies of yet more Collectors. Titus nodded his thanks, before raising his shotgun to pick off a pair of stragglers, and activated the vox via his black carapace.

"Hullen, how are you doing on the left flank?" he called.

"We're holding," Hullen answered over the noise of his assault cannon roaring its wrath. "There's a lot, but we're surviving for the moment."

"Understood, keep it up. Miranda, what of the centre?"

"There's a lot of them," Miranda replied. "I'm not sure we're quite in the same boat as Hullen up here. We need reinforcements."

"Hullen, can you spare anyone?" Titus asked.

"No can do," Hullen replied. "We lose somebody and we're not going to hold."

Titus cursed, before he noticed more Collectors heading his way. He raised his shotgun with one hand and snapped off a few shots, power armour absorbing the bone-shattering recoil, before he returned to the vox.

"Miranda, I can't send anybody your way," he said. "You'll have to hold out for the moment." 

"We can't do that, Titus," Miranda said. "They're really pressing at us here."

"Damn it," Titus said. "Alright, fall back. There're only two rooms beyond this, we'll have a better chokepoint there."

"Understood." 

"On it."

He cut the connection and yelled over the din; "Kullas, Samara, Grunt, Thane, we're falling back. Kullas, get that rear door open, the rest of you cover him!"

Kullas turned to the door, chattering a binaric canticle as he did so, and it slid open for a moment, revealing an open door beyond it. The Forge Priest was through first, followed by Thane, the Drell raising his rifle to snap off a shot at the Collectors that exploited the break in fire to swarm through the opposite door.

"Go, go!" Titus ordered, Samara hurrying through as Titus laid down fire. Grunt stayed where he was, on one knee, his assault rifle up and blazing. "Grunt, move!"

"I'm having too much fun!" the Krogan replied, face fixed in a broad grin. "Why would I?"

"Because I'm your damn battlemaster, and if you don't move then you're going to get us all killed!" Titus answered. "Now get going before I knock you out and drag you there."

"Spoken like a Krogan," Grunt said, nodding. He fired off a final burst with his rifle, and hurried through the doorway, turning on the spot and adding his rifle to the plasma fire that Kullas was sending overhead.

"Kullas, close this," Titus ordered as he stepped through. Through the other doorway in the room, he could see Miranda and Hullen's teams heading into the other room, and he nodded to them as the door slid shut, Collector fire pinging off it. "Blow the charges."

"With pleasure, brother," Kullas said. He chattered something in binaric as he sent a remote signal, and there was a deep rumbling noise from the room they had just exited as the shaped charges they had set blasted into life, obliterating the Collectors within.

The other doors slammed shut on Kullas' order, and Titus yelled; "Into defensive positions, before they cut through. Quickly!"

Hurriedly, the team ducked behind cover, dropping storage pods from the wall to provide extra shelter as red spots appeared on the doors, sparks flying from them as the Collectors began to cut through. Slowly, they worked upwards, burning an entry as the team reloaded weapons and prepared biotics. Only the Astartes stood, relying on their power armour to absorb the Collector fire, and there was a whining as the barrels of Hullen's assault cannon began to spin in preparation for the attack.

The spots reached the floor, burning an entry point, and the doors toppled forwards. Collectors flooded forwards through the portals, and the team opened fire, emptying magazines in to the chokepoints in a storm of gunfire and biotics. Xenos bodies were ripped to shreds by its sheer volume, yet the Collectors continued to press forward in blind fury, relying on sheer weight of numbers to see them through.

The first wave was torn apart in less than a minute, and hurriedly fresh thermal clips were inserted into weapons, even as more Collectors appeared. Most of the xenos ducked to one knee and opened fire, laying down rounds as yet more shoved their way forwards, trying to force their way into the room.

"Grenades!" somebody yelled, and the team scattered as several spherical objects bounced in, their firing suddenly broken. The Collectors took the opportunity to press forwards yet further, even as the team rallied and began to fire back, yet the xenos were almost at the barricades they had erected, their grenades detonating.

"STAND FIRM!" Titus roared over the din of combat. "IN THE EMPEROR'S NAME, STAND FIRM!"

He smashed at a Collector with the banner he bore in one hand, shattering its carapace, and blasted off the remainder of his magazine into the mob of Collectors before him, blasting yet more to pieces. Hurriedly he slammed his final drum into the weapon, and snarled in fury, slamming the banner point down into the ground to wield the shotgun two handed, slamming a dozen Collectors away into nothing before it clicked dry. He grabbed one of the Collectors' own weapons, and opened fire, emptying the magazine into his enemies, before throwing it away.

"Jacob's down!" Miranda's voice suddenly crackled in his ear. "He's hit."

"Mordin, get to him!" Titus ordered.

"Can't," Salarian said. "Pinned down. Apply medi-gel if available."

"We don't have any damn medi-gel," Miranda snapped. "It's just me and Garrus stuck in a corner here, and we're having a hard enough time keeping them at bay as it is."

"I'm moving to your position," Okeen cut in over the line, and there was a screaming noise as they Apothecary activated the chainblade on his narthecium. "Hold on."

The apothecary waded through the crowd, slashing left and right with his weapon, the submachine gun in his other hand blazing as it cut down the Collectors trying to crowd towards and overwhelm Miranda and Garrus as they stood over Jacob, lying prone on the floor, a gory hole punched into his chest. There was a pool of blood around him, and Okeen could see his chest was barely moving.

He barrelled through the crowd of xenos, crouching over Jacob, his only words to Garrus and Miranda being "Cover me." A needle slid from his narthecium, the green vial of medigel it was connected to full, and he called; "Jacob, can you hear me?" 

Jacob's eyelids fluttered slightly, and Okeen shook his head, sliding the needle into the flesh around the wound and injecting the healing gel with a command pulsed along his black carapace. The bleeding stopped after a moment, but Jacob's breathing was still shallow.

"No good," he whispered hoarsely. "Lost too much blood."

"Don't say that Jacob, you'll be fine," Garrus said encouragingly. "Just hold on."

"For what?"

Jacob coughed, a harsh, scraping cough that left flecks of blood across his flesh.

"They got my lungs," he said. "I'm no good for anything."

"Come on," Okeen said. "That's not true."

He looked over his should as Titus yelled orders to fall back, smashing Collectors to pieces with his banner and gesturing furiously to them to go.

"I've got grenades and a pistol," Jacob said. "Leave me and I'll take a few more of the bastards with me."

The others beginning to fall back through the final set of doors, putting up a spirited fight against the Collectors even as they retreated.

"Get me up against that wall," Jacob said. "Go on!"

Garrus glanced over to the other two, who reluctantly nodded, before grabbing beneath Jacob's armpits and propping him against the back wall. Jacob cocked the pistol, activating the final coolant clip.

"Emperor be with you, Jacob Taylor," Okeen said.

"I'll give 'em hell," Jacob replied. "Now get going."

Okeen rose, Jacob raising his pistol, and nodded to the others, before they hurried towards the door, where Kullas was waiting, a rippling sheet of fire from his flamer keeping the Collectors at bay. They heard Jacob yell something behind them, an animal roar of pure fury before the door slammed shut.

Okeen bowed his head and made the sign of the Aquila, murmuring a quiet prayer for Jacob.

"You couldn't do anything for him, then?" Hullen asked next to him, lowering his assault cannon and pointing it at the door Okeen, Miranda and Garrus had just left through. Most of the purity seals on it had been ripped free, but the weapon's lethally smooth look remained.

"No," Okeen said. "He's brought a few more down for us, though. We couldn't have asked for more."

Hullen nodded soberly, before he turned at the crunching noise behind him. It was Titus, slamming the base of banner pole into the ground.

"Whatever happens," he announced. "However many of these Collectors there are, however badly wounded you are, whatever happens, while you are alive, this banner does not fall. Only over our broken bodies will this banner be taken down, and that _will not happen_, do you understand me?"

There was silence, the team nodding slowly.

"Good," Titus said. "Now let's give them hell. To defensive positions, go!"

Okeen crouched down next to the banner bearer, who had clamped his shotgun to one side and had fixed his bayonet to his bolter.

"Do you think we can win this?" he asked.

"Win this? No," Titus said. "But we came here to kill these Collectors. It would have been nice to help against the Reapers, but I suppose humanity will have to fight that battle on its own."

Red spots began to appear on the two doorways as the Collectors began to cut their way through, sparks flying from them.

"And thus the end comes," Okeen said. "It won't find us wanting."

"No, it won't," Titus said. "As long as Malleus can destroy this base, we'll have done our duty."

"Then let's not disappoint him."


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36-Abomination

It was hideous. A colossal machine of onyx metal, shaped like some robotic parody of the human skeleton, leered down upon Malleus, Cyralius and Legion as they stepped free of the platform. The tubes that had spread across the last great cavern were holding the creature suspended above them, and it lolled downwards limply like a skeleton in a gibbet. So far, it seemed to be only a torso, a metallic spinal chord running down into nothing, but even half complete the machine was the size of a Warhound.

"So this is what they were building," Cyralius murmured. "What is it?"

"It matches design trends notable on known Reaper craft," Legion said. "Specifically its semi-organic metallic composition."

"This is a Reaper?" Malleus asked. "So that's what they were taking people for; to build another one of their kind."

"It's smaller than the one we saw on Mnemosyne," Cyralius remarked. "Perhaps it was to be used for surface warfare. Or that might just be because it's only half built."

"Regardless, we're here now, and we can destroy this thing," Malleus said. "EDI, do you see this thing? Any idea how we can kill it?"

"The tubes that are holding it aloft can be broken by small arms," EDI said. "The fall should do significant damage. I also detect that you are near the main engines. There should be nearby means with which to overload them; Legion should be able to access them." 

"Understood," Malleus said. "Legion, find a way to get into their systems. Cyralius, bring this thing down."

Cyralius frowned, glass splintering and cracking as he gazed upon it, before they shattered one by one, the great skeletal machine hanging limply by one arm before it toppled to the ground with a deep thud.

"And may it never climb free," Malleus remarked as he saw it smash into the ground far below.

"We have access to the station systems," Legion said. The Geth was by a computer console, made of the same metallic-organic fusion as the rest of the ship, and was tapping at the holographic interface. "Shall we begin the overload?"

Malleus was about to give the order, when the vox chime.

"What is it?" he asked. "Who is it? Legion, wait a moment."

"The Illusive Man."

"Oh," Malleus said. "What's this about?"

"I've found out that destroying the station may not be necessary," the Illusive Man said over the vox connection.

"What, so you're saying that we leave whatever means these Collectors use to breed as they are and leave?" Malleus asked. "People have died to get us this far, good people, and if you're suggesting that we simply forget their sacrifice…"

"I am not suggesting that at all," the Illusive Man replied. "But we can blast the base with a radiation pulse, kill all the Collectors aboard and use its technology for ourselves."

"An intriguing idea," Malleus said. "Turn their weapons against their masters. You're right, we should do so. How do we send out the radiation pulse?"

"You should be able manipulate the bases' engines to do so," the Illusive Man said. "Legion should know how. We'll send in salvage ships and strip it down."

"Shall we do this?" Legion asked, chipping on the conversation.

"Do it," Malleus said. "Give us time to escape, though."

"Affirmative."

"I'm glad to see you're willing to do what the situation requires, Malleus," the Illusive Man said. "Illusive Man out."

The connection was cut, and Malleus flicked the vox on once more.

"Titus," he said. "What's the situation?"

"Grim, brother captain," Titus replied over the vox, the sound of gunfire audible. "Half of us are using scavenged weapons for ammo, and there are more Collectors appearing every minute."

"Hold on," Malleus said. "We're nearly out of here."

"I hope so," Titus said. "I'm not sure how much longer we can last."

"Stand firm, brother," Malleus said. "I'll try and get you an extraction. Imperator praesidum."

He flicked the vox on to the Normandy's channel.

"Joker, do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear."

"What's the situation with the engines?"

"Now we've got Gabby and Kenneth back the engines are running and we're lifting off now."

"Glad to hear," Malleus said. "We need an extraction, as soon as possible."

"Wait, an extraction from inside the station? Are you serious?" 

"Looking at the cavern we're in, this could easily hold a hundred Normandies," Malleus said. "Blast your way through and pick us up as soon as you can, understand?"

"Understood. Normandy out."

Malleus flicked the vox-bead off with a thought, and glanced over at Legion, before asking; "How goes realigning the engines?"

"It is complete," Legion buzzed back. "We may send off the pulse whenever you wish."

"You might want to hurry it up, then," Cyralius said from behind them.

"Why's that?"

There was a screaming roar from below, and Malleus turned to see an immense, metallic hand grab on to the edge of the platform. An immense, leering skull swung into view, orange burning balefully in its eye sockets, and its other hand, the tips of each finger easily the size of Malleus, grabbed the edge of platform, holding it aloft. It opened its great jaw and roared at them once more, a sound like metal being torn that sent Malleus staggering with its sheer volume.

The Reaper had woken.

A shot from Legion's rifle pinged against the back of metallic, fanged maw, but even the high powered anti-materiel rifle had little effect against the monstrous machine. Still supporting itself with its grip on the edge of the platform, it reached forwards, grabbing for the Geth like some petulant, abhorrent infant reaching to throw a toy. Legion moved at once, predicting its path and sprinting directly away from the creature. Realising he had a chance while it was distracted, Malleus drew Gaius' blade, and thumbed the activation stud. Lightning crackled around it, and he thundered forwards. The blade slammed down, slicing through a finger on the Reaper's hand, and Malleus drew it back in time to see the abominable machine's other hand sweep towards him.

He leapt, but was too slow, and the great paw caught in midair. He tumbled away, slamming into the far wall, Gaius' blade skittering to the ground next to him. He tried to rise, but lances of pain drove their way through his stomach and chest. He put his hand to his stomach, the wound Gaius had inflicted upon him flaring in pain, and grimaced as blood came away on the fingers of his gauntlet.

He ignored the pain in his stomach, and placed his hand on the wall, gripping its ridged surface. He pulled, grunting in pain, feeling his ribs grind against each other or dig into his flesh, shifting his legs beneath him, and stood. He limped towards Gaius' sword and picked it up, the movement causing more pain to flare up.

"Pain purifies the body," he muttered. "Pain purifies the soul."

He thumbed it on once more, seeing Cyralius battling the Reaper with fireballs and lightning, and limped towards combat once more.

#

The butt of the Collector's rifle swept towards his helm with lethal speed before Titus caught the weapon mid swing. The Astartes tore it from its wielder's grasp and emptied the magazine into the tightly packed mob of Collectors before him, puncturing flesh and rupturing organs before it ran dry.

Titus threw the weapon to one side and grabbed his combat knife from where it was mag-clamped to his waist, charging forward and slamming it into the neck of Collector before him. Yellow ichor ripped from the wound as he tore it free, and the creature collapsed even as he searched for a new target. Next to him, Urz barrelled into a Collector and knocked it to the ground, the xenos collapsing beneath the beast's weight before its tusks ripped at is throat. Titus punched the Collector next to his pet with enough force to snap its neck, before a hissing, rumbling and a baleful orange glow announced the arrival of Harbinger.

Titus shouldered his way through melee of Collectors, Urz by his side, shoving through the xenos through sheer weight and brawn as he fought to get to the Collector leader beast. Next to him, there was a whining scream, and a beam of white light screamed forth from Hullen's melta, annihilating Harbinger's vessel on an atomic level. Titus glanced over to Hullen, the barrel of his assault cannon lowered, melta held in one hand.

"Nicely done," Titus remarked.

"I try," Hullen replied, clamping his melta back to his waste. "Any more of those crab things, and I'm in business."

Titus nodded to his battle brother, and asked; "How many shots have you got left with that assault cannon?"

Hullen pressed a button and a hologram flicked up.

"Nine hundred and thirty thousand, seven hundred and twenty three," he said. He turned the weapon, barrels whirling around, upon a group of Collectors before him, before it screamed into life and tore them to shreds. "Kullas didn't bother with coolant clips; this is just air cooled."

"Plenty of Collectors to still go through," Titus grinned, grabbing one of the xenos that charged towards them and snapping its neck. "Listen, keep back with the others, that thing's not much good in a melee."

"Just picking off Harbinger before it could cause trouble," Hullen said. "Keep giving 'em hell." 

He shouldered his way through the Collectors, slamming his assault cannon left and right in his two handed grip. Bodies were pulverised beneath the attack, and he yelled; "Friendly coming through! Hold your fire!"

He slammed through a break in the crowd of Collectors, towards the spot where the team were making their final stand around the banner. He vaulted the block of muddy metal that they were using as cover, and turned to face them

"Good of you to join us again," Miranda remarked from next to him, before plucking a Collector into midair with a tug of biotic force.

"Well, I figured you'd probably want a hand," Hullen said. "You're probably all helpless without me." 

He squeezed the trigger, and his great weapon screamed into life, a tide of firepower sweeping from his weapon as he strafed the crowd of Collectors; carapaces were punctured, organs ruptured, gallons of yellow blood spilt in but a moment as the heavy weapon shrieked its fury. He held the trigger down for a full minute, cleaving a great swathe through the xenos, yelling in fury and bloodthirsty joy.

It powered down with a whine, barrels glowing red and steam hissing off them, and Hullen called for covering fire as he ducked down, murmuring an apology to the machine spirit of the weapon for the suffering the heat was causing it. Collectors pressed forwards in the break in fire, crushing their dead beneath their feet, even as the rest of the team moved to try and compensate for the break in fire, stolen rifles blazing.

A wave of biotic force ripped through the xenos, shattering more Collector bodies, and Jack stepped forwards, azure energy coalescing around her arms. A shield of energy burst up, and she yelled; "Hurry up and cool that thing, I can't keep this up for long!"

Fire rippled and burst against it, and she snarled as it did so, face a mask of determined fury. The others moved away, providing support elsewhere, and Hullen stood up next to her and ordered; "Drop it."

Instead, the barrier rippled forwards, knocking Collectors from their feet, snapping bone and pulverising organs. Jack ducked back behind the wall, panting from her exertions while Hullen's assault cannon screamed in her ear.

"Hey Hullen," she called over the din.

"What?"

"You think we can win this?"

"Don't know," Hullen called back. "Don't care. As long as we give these things hell, we'll have done our duty. That's enough for me." 

Jack just snorted derisively at this, before Hullen ducked down next to her, the barrels glowing once more.

"Cover us," he said. "Get the shield out."

"Can't do that," Jack said. "Nowhere enough energy."

"We need covering fire," Hullen voxed to the rest of the team. "Get us some cover!"

"We can't do that!" Miranda called. "We're too pressed." 

Hullen glanced over his cover, looking at the Collectors advancing towards them with alarming rapidity, and then back at the still red hot barrels of his weapon. It wasn't going to cool any time soon.

"Oh frak."

#

The great hand slammed down after Malleus, clanging on the platform's surface and sending the Brother Captain stumbling with its force. Hurriedly, he gathered himself and sliced downwards into the great hand, cutting through the metal. The Reaper drew its paw up, shrieking in mechanical rage, before it opened its great maw and sent bolts of energy arcing towards Malleus.

He avoided the first two, but the final one slammed into his shoulder pad with enough force to send him stumbling, before the Reaper grabbed at him once more. There was a crack and the creature shrieked as a round from Legion's rifle slammed into its eye, shattering lenses, fist involuntarily clenching and missing Malleus by a hair's breadth.

The brother captain saw his chance and hacked down once more, an entire finger falling free in a spray of sparks and oil. The machine swatted him away, knocking the wind from his body and sending Gaius' blade skittering away. Malleus pulled himself to his feet, grunting in pain as agony lanced through his stomach, to see the immense hand reaching towards him.

A barrier of psychic energy stopped it in its tracks, and Cyralius yelled; "Move! I can't hold it for long!" 

Malleus scrambled free as the immense fingers strained to reach him, the Reaper shrieking and roaring in fury as it tried to grasp and crush him. Cyralius released the barrier, the Reaper swinging forwards at empty air, before the backswing sent Malleus flying once more.

It raised its hand to slam it down in an attempt to swat Cyralius away, who countered with a blast of lightning that stunned the great fist long enough for him to move. It slammed down a moment later, sending Cyralius tumbling away as well.

Malleus grabbed Gaius' blade from where it lay, and rose, ignoring the burning pain within his midriff.

"Enough!" he roared at the machine. "We are not flies to be merely swatted! We are Astartes, the worthiest foe you shall ever face! Treat us with the respect we are due, abomination, lest I am forced to teach it to you!"

The machine turned to face him, roaring a challenge, and Malleus charged, blade raised. Its fist slammed down next to him, but he ignored the impact, thundering forward, roaring in fury. His twin hearts pounded in his chest as the Reaper screamed at him, and he silently prayed to the Emperor for aid in what he was about to do. He reached the edge of the platform, and leapt with a screamed prayer, the remaining purity seals on his armour fluttering in the wind.

In a moment of sudden, clear calm, he knew that this was it, this was what it truly mean to be Astartes; unbowed, unbroken, defiant despite the wounds inflicted upon his form, the pain ravaging his body. To not surrender, to never give up, to keep fighting even as the myriad monstrosities of the galaxy lined up to take his life. And only for him to strike them down, in spite of the wounds, in spite of the pain. He was the Emperor's Angel of Death, unstoppable, implacable and merciless.

Realising his intent, the Reaper reared backwards, but Malleus' sheer momentum kept him going and he landed on its chest. The blade slammed home, and the creature shrieked in pain as Malleus ripped it free and stabbed again and again, sparks and oil flying. It raised its hand to smash him free, but a volley of rifle shots and psychic attacks drove it away.

Slamming his feet into the rib shaped curves upon its chest, Malleus stabbed the blade home and pulled, dragging himself towards it chest with only one arm. The Reaper shook and twisted as it tried to get him free, but Malleus activated the magnets within his boots and smiled as he felt them grip onto whatever metal the blasphemous machine was made of. Slowly, he began to climb, Gaius' blade a piton that tore at its armoured hide, boots locking him in place. He reached its shoulder, its hand kept at bay through the efforts of Legion and Cyralius, and scrambled onto the back of its neck.

It arched and twisted further trying to shake him free, but Malleus held firm, digging the blade into the spine of the beast, forcing it to stay in place. Swiftly, he tore it free and before it could move he leapt forwards, landing atop its skull. With a yell of "Ave Imperator!" he spun the blade around in his grasp, and slammed it home.

The Reaper screamed, shaking and writhing, and Malleus gripped the blade with all his strength, balancing upon the thing's skull as it died. Suddenly, its struggles ceased, the baleful orange light in its eyes winked out, and it began to slowly fall backwards into the abyss. Malleus ripped blade free and sprinted forwards, leaping into midair. He slammed down on the platform, rolling with the impact, as the dead Reaper lost its grip and toppled away with an immense thud.

Malleus rose, gasping as the adrenaline already began to fade, and looked over the edge. The Reaper lay at the bottom of the cavern, electricity arcing round its form as its systems finally died.

"May it never rise again," he said.

And that was when the wall of the great cavern exploded, and the Normandy entered.

#

"Come on!" Titus yelled. "Keep fighting! KEEP FIGHTING!"

They were pinned, trapped, forced back, stuck. Nowhere to run, fire on all sides, no cover, only biotic shields keeping them safe and not much energy left in the biotics themselves. All weapons out of ammo, only stolen rifles and Hullen's assault cannon keeping the enemy at bay.

"We are the manifestation of the Emperor's Will!" Titus roared over the din, his stolen rifles blazing as he cut down Collectors. "We are His angels, His lights that shall breach the darkness and burn all within. We are the lightning of His hate! We are the thunder of His wrath!"

The cry was echoed by his brothers as they fired, repeated again and again. Something in it gave them spirit, and the team seemed to redouble their efforts, their resolve building through battle prayers.

There was booming roar behind them, and the entire station rocked as the walls of the cavern exploded outwards. Sleek and swift as a dagger, the Normandy slid through, and the combat paused as both the team and their hideous foes turned to regard the new threat.

The Thunderhawk swooped in in the ship's wake, speeding towards the platform where Titus and the team were making their last stand, and it slowed, hovering on the platform in front of them. Its heavy bolters blazed, tearing through the Collectors even as they turned their weapons upon the heavily armoured gunship in a futile act of defiance, and the ramp at the front of the vessel lowered to reveal Zaeed standing there, a heavy machine gun mounted upon a tripod in front of him. He grinned and waved at the team before adding his firepower to the heavy bolters, punching yet more Collectors from their feet.

Half a dozen hellstrike missiles screamed from beneath its wings and slammed into the Collectors, fire blossoming around the xenos. Many were killed outright in the blast, and their impact was enough to send the doors they were using as entry points tumbling down beneath an avalanche of rubble from the walls. The last Collectors were cut down by the team, yelling in defiant joy at having survived, before the Thunderhawk pulled down next to them.

"All aboard!" Zaeed called, and the team hurried into the gunship as the mercenary stowed the machine gun away, Titus grabbing the now bullet-pockmarked banner. "Come on!"

The gunship closed its ramp and lifted away, drifting into the Normandy's hangar and landing once more. It opened to reveal the insides of the starship, and the team disembarked with cheers and smiles.

"We did it!" Garrus exclaimed, quills splayed in triumph. "Hah!"

Titus smiled, clapping his hands together, before he realised something.

"Where's Malleus?" he asked.

"And Cyril," Jack added.

"Here, old friend," Malleus said, clapping his gauntlet on Titus' shoulder. "Shuttle picked us up. Knew I'd kept it for a reason."

"Just good to see you in one piece," Titus grinned.

"Same for you," Malleus said, before flicking on the vox. "Joker, get us out of here."

"Aye, aye, captain," Joker said over the intercom. "Let's go."

The Normandy turned beneath their feet, before there was a shock, and the sound of its engines powering up. It flew free of the corridor its cannons had created, into the void beyond, sweeping away from the Collector station. Malleus nodded to Legion.

"Purge it."

A wave of focussed radiation tore through the station, unstoppable and inexorable. Collectors simply withered away in its path, plates falling from their body as it ravaged their forms. In the bowels of the ship, thousands of eggs were sterilised and killed, while the hideous egg laying beasts that the Collectors used to breed were stripped away to their bones. None were spared, flesh stripped to bone, and across the station thousands of limp husks toppled to the ground.

"Done," Legion announced.

"That's it," Malleus said, beginning to smile. "We've beaten them. We've won!"

A cheer went up from the team, as the realisation sunk in. The Collectors were gone, the colonist they had taken avenged, their sickening creation destroyed. They were done.

Victory.


	37. Epilogue

Epilogue-Last Rites

"I'm pleased with you, Malleus," the Illusive Man said, taking a puff on his cigarette. "Very pleased indeed."

"I'm glad to hear," Malleus said. They had barely left the core when the Illusive Man had contacted him, and he was still spattered in Collector blood, his arm and stomach aching despite the medi-gel Okeen had administered.

"Frankly, I had my doubts that even you could have accomplished what you did," the Illusive Man continued. "But you amazed me, amazed us all. With the Collectors gone, we've struck a tangible blow against the Reapers. They will think twice before facing us again."

"I somehow doubt they're simply going to give up," Malleus said. "They're still out there, after all, and they haven't been stopped yet."

"You're quite correct, but now that we've shown them just how dangerous we really are, we'll give them pause for thought," the Illusive Man replied. He leant back in his chair, backlit by the star that his station was orbiting, and Malleus couldn't help but notice that the blue tinge at the star's borders was gone; it burned orange now.

"What of the station?" Malleus asked. "Have you recovered anything useful yet?"

"Our salvage teams have only just arrived, and they're still checking for pockets of residual radiation," the Illusive Man said. "But hopefully we can recover some of their technology and use it for ourselves." 

Malleus nodded, before saying; "Be careful how we do so. Some of it created abominations, and considering Cerberus' rather chequered past the last thing I want is another technoheresy."

"You're right," the Illusive Man said. "Last thing we should do is lose sight of what we're fighting for, after all."

"Good," Malleus said. "So what's our next move?"

"The fact is, we're still at war," the Illusive Man said. "Whether the Reapers will move against us directly or adopt some new tactic, I don't know, but if we can prepare the galaxy in whatever way possible, we've got a better chance. And more than that, we've got proof."

"Proof?"

"Proof of the Reaper's existence, proof that the Collectors really were taking colonies," the Illusive Man answered. "After all, we've got an entire station that we can use as evidence for any disbelieving Council officials."

"And do you think we can convince them?" Malleus asked.

"Perhaps," the Illusive Man said. "If not, it's up to you to force them from power and take control."

"What?" Malleus asked. "I somehow doubt we're going to gain much sympathy from the people we're supposed be fighting for."

"Not if they want the Council gone too," the Illusive Man replied. "Do you know why I picked you for this job, Malleus?"

"Enlighten me." 

"You're a leader," the Illusive Man said. "Look at your team; all from different cultures, different beliefs, different morals, but you united them, forged them into a single unity. People can believe in you, easily, and you've got what it takes to use that belief, to get it behind you, gather an army and a fleet and to stop the Reapers for good."

"True," Malleus said. "I'll start it soon. I've got some final duties to attend to."

"Of course," the Illusive Man said. "I'll be watching. Good luck, Malleus."

The holographic room slid away, the Normandy' briefing room replacing it, and Malleus turned and left. There were other things we had to do.

#

The two coffins stood by the airlock, their white, curved metal surfaces gleaming in the Normandy's overhead lights. The rest of the team were gathered, respectfully silent, heads bowed as Malleus approached.

"We are gathered here to say farewell to two comrades, lost in the fires of battle," Malleus said, stopping in front of the coffins. "Two brave, pure souls that gave their lives so that they may save the lives of others. For this, this ultimate sacrifice, this ultimate act of true courage, for all your work while you lived, we say to you, Jacob Taylor and Gaius Lokin, thank you. Ave Imperator."

His brothers repeated the final two words, while the others said whatever their cultures dictated; a 'Keelah Se'lai' from Tali, a quiet murmured prayer from Thane, 'find peace in the Embrace of the Goddess,' and simply 'rest in peace.' The door of the airlock slid open, and Malleus gently pushed the two coffins within it. Both were empty, true, but it was the thought that counted; Jacob and Gaius's bodies, providing they had not been stripped to nothing by the radiation pulse. He stepped free, and they closed behind him, and there was a rushing noise as the outer doors opened.

Through the viewport, Malleus saw the two coffins shot from Normandy's airlock. He followed their path as they gently tumbled towards the star the ship was orbiting, pulled in by the inexorable grasp of its gravity well, before they were engulfed by light of the burning orb.

"Goodbye, Gaius," Malleus murmured. "Goodbye, young one."

_Polgrin IV. The Orks had not been kind to this world; reducing its cities to rubble, slaughtering its people, looting everything that they find. Their PDF had been scattered and destroyed by the wild fury of the Greenskins, and it was only through the efforts of the Sons of Thunder, supported by the Cadian CCCXI, that they had been defeated. Now, it was the final sweep through the ruins of Polgrin IV's primary hive, hunting down the few organised remnants of the Waaaagh that had ravaged this world._

"_Hullen, keep further back," Malleus ordered. "Watch those buildings closely. Last thing I want is another ambush."_

"_Aye, brother captain," Hullen replied, and Malleus saw his battle brother move further away, hefting his melta. _

_So far, no Greenskins had been encountered since they had started their patrol an hour ago, but Malleus was taking no chances; he hadn't masterminded the campaign to be killed by some lone Ork guerrilla. _

_Titus walked ahead of him, the campaign banner fluttering in the gentle breeze that scudded down the ruined street, his bolter held in the other hand, raised and scanning for danger. Suddenly, he paused, raising a hand to warn the others, and gestured to Malleus to join him, crouching down to look at something._

_It was tripwire, one that would have been near invisible to a mortal man, stretching across the street, waiting for anything to disturb it. _

"_That's too fine to be Orks," Titus murmured. "Survivor, maybe?"_

"Perhaps," Malleus said, before standing. "Is anybody there? My name is Malleus Scandarum of the Adeptus Astartes. Show yourself; I mean you no harm."

_The street remained empty and silent, the burned out ruins of the hab-blocks throwing the empty echo of his words back at him._

_Malleus walked slowly along the length of the wire, towards an empty window, noticing how it was hooked upwards into a window. Carefully, he peered in, facing the deep black maw of a mortar; no doubt the weapon would lob a shell into the centre of the road if the wire was broken._

_He climbed in, taking care not to disturb the wire, and looked around the burned out shell of a room. He drew his thunder hammer, just in case, taking it in both hands and flicking the weapon into activation, lightning crackling around him._

"_Found anything, Malleus?" Titus asked._

"_Nothing so far," Malleus said. "Cut the wire, let's keep going. Keep your eyes open for more traps."_

"_Understood. Emperor protects."_

_There was click from behind Malleus, and slowly the brother captain turned, facing down the barrel of an lasrifle. Its holder looked at him through dirty blonde hair with tired, frightened and defiant eyes, before he said; "Drop the hammer."_

"_I'm not an enemy," Malleus said gently. "Stay calm."_

"I said drop the hammer."

_There was panic in the voice, so Malleus gently placed the thunder hammer on the floor, while the black carapace uplink his armour vox-clicked an SOS to Titus, who sent a click of acknowledgement back in return._

"_What are you doing here?" the boy holding the weapon asked, aim wavering ever so slightly in worry and uncertainty._

"_We're clearing out the last of the Orks," Malleus said. "We've defeated them, and we're finishing off the last of them. I'm amazed you haven't seen us."_

"_I was hiding from the Orks," he said. "Saw Guardsmen, didn't let them see me."_

"Why not?"

"Might get dragged off and conscripted, thrown into their guns. I'm more use setting traps for them."  


_There was the sound of a bolter cocking, and Titus appeared in the window._

"_Put the rifle down, son," he said, his weapon held up. "Come on."_

_The boy looked between Malleus and Titus, before carefully, warily, placing the lasrifle on the floor._

"_What he doing here?" Titus' voice asked in Malleus' ear, inaudible beneath his helmet. "He set up that mortar?"  
_

"_The trap on the road," Malleus said. "Was that your work?"_

"Yeah," the boy said. "I can't take them in a straight fight, but I've been setting traps; mines, pits, you name it, I've killed Orks with it."

"_For how long?"_

"_Month, two months? I don't know. Wasn't counting. Too busy surviving."_

_Malleus glanced over to Titus, who once again flicked on the vox and asked; "Do you think that he might be worth a shot."_

Malleus nodded, to him, causing the boy to glance warily over at Titus. 

"_Listen to me," Malleus said. "I know a safe place for you. A few miles along this road, to the North, we've established a firebase. Head there and ask for Scout Sergeant Polis. Tell him Malleus Scandarum sent you, that you wish to join the Sons."_

"I'm not being conscripted, am I?" the boy said, raising his rifle once more. "No. I'm not joining the damn guard. I've see what they do; I'm not being thrown into some gun position just because some officer tells me."

"_You wouldn't be joining the guard, no," Malleus said. _

"_Then who would I…oh."  
_

_The boy looked at them disbelievingly, and Malleus smiled softly._

"_It takes a lot to fight a lone war against an entire Waaaagh for two months," he said. "This isn't the only test you'd need to pass to become Astartes, but it certainly sets you in good stead. What is your name, boy?"_

"Gaius," he said. "Gaius Lokin."

_"I see," Malleus said. "Go on then, Gaius. Polis will be waiting."_

Still clutching his lasrifle to his chest like some protective talisman, Gaius vaulted the window, past Titus, pulled a compass from his pocket and sprinted away.

"Seventy four years ago," Malleus said quietly.

"What was that, Malleus?" Titus asked.

"Polgrin IV," Malleus said. "Where we found him. Seventy four years ago. He would have turned ninety soon enough."

Titus nodded sombrely as the Normandy slid away from the star, the two coffins gently tumbling into its flames, where they would be cremated within the solar furnace.

"Now the Collectors are beaten, what do we do?" the banner bearer asked.

"Now?" Malleus asked. "Now we well and truly go to war." 

#

The void between the galaxies was a cold place. No suns were able to bring warmth to its chill depths, the blindingly bright cores of distant galaxies, with their countless suns and supernovae, nothing more than faint dots of light. Only one source of light seemed to permeate the darkness within the great empty space, one uncountable trillions of light years in its span.

A single mass effect relay, the spinning core at the heart of the three kilometre long FTL slingshot station glowing a bright piercing blue in the otherwise empty vacuum. None had traversed it except its creators, and even then it was a rare event; only once every few dozen millennia was it used, for the Great Salvation. The rest of the time, it lay silent in the void.

But now, its creators were thinking. Minds as ancient as continents cogitated and processed, intellects as vast as stars and as cold as the void itself considered the new information that had come to light. The Collectors had failed, their station taken and already it devices were being used for those the Reapers had not intended for. Always silently, they had hidden in the shadows and worked the sentient species of the galaxy to follow the trends and patterns that made them vulnerable; letting them find the relays and the Citadel, moulding them silently to make their extermination all the easier. But now, an unprecedented turn of events had come about; weapons had been found, their weapons, weapons that could easily make them equals to the Reapers.

One by one, lights scattered across great blue-black hulls flicked into life as primary systems came online. Soon, a miniature galaxy of stars, scattered hundreds of kilometres across, lit the void, great flaring supernovae of engines sending immense machines towards the relay. It burned into life, catching the fleet of dreadnought class vessels in a net of massless dark energy, before hurling it forwards at the speed of light, its hideous cargo safe and unharmed.

At the fringes of the galaxy, in a star system left so ignored that it had only a number and a letter to identify it, the relay's twin flared into life. Illuminated by the harsh light of the system's sun, hundreds, no, thousands of hulls were visible, each one of dimensions so vast that a human being would barely be able to comprehend its size. All with one single goal; extermination.

The Reapers had awoken.


End file.
